The Dagger of Oblivion
by Mackinaw Weasel
Summary: For Skulduggery, the time spent with his teenage companion is drawing to an end as Darquesse claws away at Valkyrie's will to remain in control. For Valkyrie, the time spent with her egotistical mentor becomes more valuable as her dark side slowly permeates her mind. The answer, the cure, the solution is an untold number of miles away...
1. PROLOGUE

For Skulduggery, the time spent with his annoying and slightly obnoxious teenage companion is drawing to an end as Darquesse claws away at Valkyrie's will to remain in control. For Valkyrie, the time spent with her egotistical and sardonic mentor becomes more valuable as her dark side slowly permeates her mind. The answer, the cure, the solution is an untold number of miles away and they can't even be sure they're running towards it fast enough. Meanwhile, the world is threatened by another force; yet another cult of crazy nutcase sorcerers are on the rise, and they seem to be well coordinated this time. Except Skulduggery and Valkyrie cannot afford to deal with them as time is running out, for everyone.

Read on...

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

Superman, Spiderman, Batman, and all the other mans out there was what kept Thomas Blurr on the side of righteousness, fighting the good fight, keeping bad off the streets. Like all superheroes, Blurr wore an outfit disguising his civilian complexion. His costume was of black leather which clung tight to his waxy skin, and would have probably creaked at every step if it hadn't been worn to the point it was deathly silent, frayed in the joints, soft and supple. The one thing his disguise couldn't hide was his height. Blurr was a great deal taller than the average man, standing at almost eight feet – he wasn't exactly sure anymore, every year he grew several inches, and he was fast approaching forty years of age with no signs of slowing down. But he took his height in stride. Quite literally too, as the growth occurred only in his legs, making him disturbingly out of proportion. His closest friends compared him to a crane, and that was the name he undertook, _The Crane_.

Blurr didn't particularly _enjoy_ being a good-guy, and the work of a leather clad, eight foot vigilante was restricted only to late weekend nights and the dealings with the drunk and disorderly. There was also no money involved. And Blurr had a great mountain of accumulating debt cornered in a single roomed apartment back in Cork. But despite the inconvenience of his night time romps patrolling the streets like a stork searching to spear fish, Blurr always returned to his duties to the town and country, spurred by a romantic notion to exact justice on wrongdoers.

Tonight the streets were as they usually were: sparsely lit, dark, and fiendishly peaceful. There probably wasn't a bad person around for miles.

Blurr tilted his head and scanned the silent streets. There was a clang of metal; he stiffened, as a tabby cat ran out from the shadows further up the street. It stopped under a street lamp and looked back down the dark road, its tail unmoving, and the shine of its whiskers twitching. Blurr wondered what it was it was seeing. Him? An eight foot irregularity that looked more pole-shaped than man-shaped? Something behind him perhaps?

Blurr looked slowly behind him, his sudden movement causing the cat to hiss loudly and sprint away. Certain that there was nothing else alongside him in the dark Blurr shook the tension from his shoulders and walked on.

It was then he heard the blood curdling scream.

Blurr stopped, his black eyes wide, his heart drowning his hearing.

The scream ended quickly.

But in the night silence Blurr could still hear it reverberating against the brick walls, and he started forward until he found himself standing under the streetlight where the cat had stood only moments ago. He looked at the brick wall that boarded the footpath and looked up at the four story building and its many black windows above him.

Then the scream came again, more terrifying than the first. The scream for life – emitting from the third story, the seventh window across.

Blurr took several steps back, skipped towards the building's foundation and ran up the side of the building.

Blurr had no idea why he could do certain things, like run up walls, jump over ten feet, or sprint without tiring. He just could. He always could. He had no parents that he knew of, just some elderly caretakers who never spoke of his ill-fortuned parents, who had themselves killed while crossing a train track. He had always wondered if they had maybe been like him. Always growing, never ageing, with insane kick-ass abilities.

Blurr wasn't worrying about that tonight though. Tonight he used his abilities for good.

The window was open and like a spider, Blurr folded himself into the dark room. There was another death cry and he flung himself into the darkness, hands outstretched, patting down the walls as he navigated his way towards an old brass knob which he twisted. The door flew open aided by a wave of heat escaping into the cooler room behind him; there was the rank smell of burning house-wood reaching his nostrils on the hot air and the flicker of orange lights. Without hesitation, Blurr threw himself down the long corridor, his head slightly bent forward as he approached the room where the lights emitted.

Blurr could feel the prickle of heat transpire through his skin as he conjured his strength to look into the room. Back against the wall, he stretched his neck around the doorframe and peered in.

Smoke had begun to do its work and haze out objects, forcing Blurr to cup a hand around his mouth and hold his breath. In the far corner was a man, about forty years old in appearance, who sat curled in fear and horror, his brow sweating profusely, his mouth quaking in terror. There were severe burns along his arms and legs, blood oozing from the cooked flesh.

Blurr stepped out. "Hang on," he said, approaching the man quickly, stepping across the room in only several long strides. He coughed as he approached the gentleman whose eyes were threatening to suicide fall from his skull. The old man weekly spluttered a few words. "What?" Blurr shouted over the crackle of flame, and coughed. "_What_!?"

The old man pointed to the opposite end of the room. His hand shaking as ribbons of blood flowed down his fingers, dripping unheard onto the floorboards. Blurr turned to look and at first his sight registered nothing.

He saw the attacker a moment too late.

The man had literally emerged from the fire engulfing the wall, a dark silhouette carrying flames on his back as he leaped with frightening speed towards Blurr. The eight foot man stepped backwards, into the old man who howled in pain and tumbled, probably saving his life as the human flame went soaring overhead.

"Oh my god!" Blurr grunted, rolling to his feet as the attacker righted himself and turned on him once more.

Blurr took a fighting stance and felt his arm scream in pain at the elbow. He looked down. In the crease of his right arm the leather had melted into his skin, and upon seeing it he could taste the smell of his own burnt flesh. Bile flew to his throat as blood pooled quickly in the bend of his arm. He had severed a minor artery.

The pyromaniac lunged again, missing Blurr's head by a hair, the heat searing off his left eyebrow. He would have cared if he hadn't suddenly come to the realisation that he was out of his league.

The man in flames suddenly laughed as more of the room became fuel for the fire. "Good to see how fast the sanctuary reacted to this! And for a minute, I thought, that they were losing their touch."

Blurr put a hand to his wound, trying to stem the blood. "Leave this man alone. _Now_!" He ordered, hoping that might give the man the incentive to pack up and leave.

"Oho! But I have an important job to finish!"

Blurr swallowed rising panic in his throat. "And that is?"

"To melt this old fart's bones! And then yours," he added thoughtfully.

Gritting his teeth, Blurr charged forward. He was sure that there lived no person who could out best him in speed. The man, still engulfed in flames, failed to do in time and Blurr's right hand collided with the man's jaw with a crunch.

Blurr pulled his hand back, the flesh raw and his attacker stumbled backwards screaming in rage. Blurr turned to the elderly still trembling in the corner. "Go! Run!" He shouted.

The old man seemed to take courage and crawled to his feet and began to run as fast as his bloodied legs would allow him.

Blurr rounded back onto his attacker. Now he just had to buy the man enough to get away and hide, then he could make a run for it himself. He would survive the fight, and live to see another day.

But the human flame was charging towards the door and Blurr had no choice but grab the man from behind, his arms and legs wrapped around the fiery man's torso and bring him crashing back to the floor which shuddered dangerously.

The room was well and truly on fire now.

Smoke filled the room so thick Blurr's eyes began to swell shut and his throat close. He let go of the fire-man, who got to his feet, looking pityingly down at the smouldering figure of Blurr.

"Almost, sonny," said the man sadly, raising a dark fist of flames over his head. "You _almost_ saved the-" he cocked his head as sounds of boots marching in unison reached his ears. He hissed loudly and lunged onto Blurr, pulling him up by the neck of his leather jacket so that they were face to face.

Blurr could hardly make out the man's features, cloaked as they were by flame. It was like his skin was emitting a gas that kept him alight, but man controlling the fire was no more detail than a shadow. Blurr coughed, and tasted blood in his mouth as the pyromaniac shook him like a doll.

"You may have won this time, sanctuary scum, but now I got a bone to pick with you _and _the old man. So, I'm just gunna leave you with a parting gift."

Blurr's ribbed parted like ice under running hot water as the man's hands burned their way into his flesh. He couldn't make out if he was screaming. The world of heat and pain suddenly seemed a lifetime away.

And then there was nothing except coolness.

In his fading eyes Blurr watched as the room filled with grey cloaks, menacing weapons held high above their heads. They seemed unperturbed by the fire around them as they flooded the room, searching.

Blurr heaved a last cough as darkness enveloped him.

A Cleaver broke away from the group, observed him like an interested hawk through the shine of its helmet, and stooped down to pick up the elongated body of Thomas Blurr.

* * *

**Chapter One: Dead End, where Skulduggery and Val beat up an old lady...is coming soon, to _you!_**

**Hi there peoples! First fanfic ever :D Please review with ideas, criticism, support if you have a moment right about now-ish. ENJOY**


	2. ONE: Dead End

**CHAPTER ONE: Dead End**

It was a mildly warm autumn afternoon when Skulduggery pulled the Bentley up outside a small cottage located in a remote magical community just north of Kilkenny. And while the weather was pleasant enough a certain seventeen year old was begrudgingly exiting the old car with a scowl.

Valkyrie Cain closed the door of the Bentley with exaggerated strength, causing Skulduggery to tut darkly as it slammed shut. "Can _not_ be_lieve_ I'm doing _this_!"

"You should know by now that not _all_ aspects of being a detective involve heroics and glory," Skulduggery said, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. "Just think, you could be going from World Destroyer to Saviour in little over an hour."

Valkyrie glared at him darkly. "I doubt that."

"What is there to doubt?"

"This, for starters," said Valkyrie, extending an arm at the prim and proper cottage before them. It's white picket fence as straight and clean as the Queen's Royal Guard. "How many dead end places have been so…_normal_ looking? None. Nice places have nothing."

Skulduggery looked down at her with a cocked jaw. "Well, there is my rather nice abode. It has everything."

"It does not have _everything_," Valkyrie sighed, "There's only a couch in there to sleep on."

"A couch is multi-purpose," Skulduggery reasoned, "You can sit, sleep _and _eat on a couch. I had all your needs and wants in mind when I purchased that new one for you."

"Except, its pink."

"I thought you young girls were all a-rave about that colour."

"Its mind searingly pink!"

"I think it sets a rather radiant mood through the rest of the house."

"Skulduggery, when you look at it and look away, it burns its shape into your retinas and proceeds to float around your vision for an hour! It's _that _pink."

The detective paused. "I'll admit that I regret you ever pointing that design flaw out to me."

"I know, right?"

"Pink couch aside," said Skulduggery, walking to the white gate, "I think an investigation in a nice house like this, talking to Mrs. Gaffer, who I hope is a wonderful old lady, will give you a greater appreciation for the many things you have."

"But I don't _have_ anything!" Valkyrie exasperated.

"Which is why you'll appreciate this investigation so much more than me!" He chirped, opening the gate and strolling down the neat garden path.

"Wait, what!?" Valkyrie quickly strode after him. "You're not coming in with me?"

Skuduggery shook his head. "I expect you to do a superb job without my being here to cram your style." Valkyrie made to object but he silenced her with a raised hand. "Consider this a favour. Besides, she's a small old lady in her mid-fifteen hundreds, she might chew your ear off, but no further harm will befall you."

Valkyrie looked doubtful. "Fine. But in return I want a TV. A big one."

He clicked his tongue. "Agreed."

They shook on it, and Skulduggery left Valkyrie to stare at the pale cream door with the words, "Home is where the Heart is". Never had a door looked more ominous in her opinion. As the sound of the Bentley driving away faded Valkyrie took a deep breath and knocked three times on door, loudly.

o)0+0(o

Mrs. Gaffer answered the door promptly and Valkyrie was welcomed with the aromatic smell of something crossed between mothballs and sarsaparilla.

Valkyrie smiled. "Hi!" She beamed, pouring all her charm into her voice. The trials of detective work had given her an uncharacteristically cold drawl over the years and she was keen to stop sounding like a stereotype.

"Oh!" Gushed Mrs. Gaffer, her plump old face pulling back to smile. "My goodness, aren't you a pretty young thing!" She placed a withered hand over her heart and continued to gush as Valkyrie stood there, feeling awkward. "I'm Mrs. Gaffer. Are you the one doing the paper?"

"Er…yes," Valkyrie replied quickly, cursing Skulduggery for not mentioning this to her. "I'm doing research on true names. I heard you might know some stuff."

"Well, that's a big topic for a little girl! Come! Come in! Don't be standing on the step like a preacher," Mrs. Gaffer ushered Valkyrie inside, and the two stepped immediately into the kitchen. "Sit down, dear, sit down," she patted an old, heavily embroidered stool at the kitchen bench. "I'll make us some tea."

Valkyrie moved to the stool slowly, absorbing the normality of the kitchen she found herself in. For a magical home there was nothing out of the ordinary. The floor was a tessellation of old fashioned linoleum. The walls were painted a colour so pastel it was hard to determine the shade. And the benches lined the perimeter of the room as any kitchen bench did. Valkyrie sat down.

"You have a nice house," she commented, as the small old lady tottered about the sink, filling an old whistling kettle.

She looked up and around at her kitchen and smiled. "I suppose it is, dear."

"Yea," Valkyrie paused awkwardly, folding her arms on the bench, "so, ah, my name's Val-um-ah…Val_is_." She bit her tongue and realised she had no cover name and blurted whatever came to mind. "Valis _Awesome_." She cringed inside as Mrs. Gaffer looked at her curiously, setting the pot on the stove.

Mrs. Gaffer shook her head. "You youngsters, always taking strange names."

Valkyrie laughed nervously. "Yeah. We're a pretentious lot like that, aren't we? So ah, about true names?"

"Oh wait, love," Mrs. Gaffer interrupted cheerily, "we'll get to all that after a good brew of tea!" She pulled out two hefty mugs from beneath the table and placed them finitely in front of Valkyrie. Her stomach plummeted in dread.

o)0+0(o

The sky was glowing gold when Valkyrie pulled her phone from her jeans and answered the long awaited call from Skulduggery.

"This is pointless!" She hissed. "Mrs. Gaffer is bat crazy. She keeps getting distracted and I can't get a goddamn thing out of her!"

"Well, hello to you too," Skulduggery replied in hurt tones. "How I miss the days when my protégé was eager to greet me over the phone and swap the odd how to do."

Valkyrie closed her eyes, praying for patience. "Hey, Skulduggery. S'up?"

"Without the sarcastic ghetto twang."

"Heeeeeeeeeeey there hot stuff," she sang flirtatiously, twirling an invisible phone wire like she had seen in teenage comedies, "what're you doing?"

"Are you twiddling an invisible phone wire right now?"

"Pfft. No."

"Just checking. And that was an improvement, bravo."

"I hate you."

"You don't. But good news, I found something that may help our cause."

Something hopeful caught itself in Valkyrie's throat. "Really? Are you serious, Skulduggery? Because I have had a really crappy day and if you're pulling my leg I am going to severely hurt you!"

Skulduggery chuckled. "Noted. But," his laughter perished in his voice and he was all smooth serious business tones once more, "remember Valkyrie, don't get your hopes up."

"I know, I know," Valkyrie responded breathlessly, eager for the news. "Just tell me."

"It could just as well be another dead end." Skulduggery paused, and when he spoke there was bitterness. "But, we'll have to see China Sorrows."

Valkyrie frowned, her voice cold. "_Her_?"

"Oooh, Valis, sweety?" Mrs. Gaffer's voice encroached on the two detectives' conversation and Valkyrie felt a little more of her die.

"Come and get me, _now!_" She demanded quietly.

Skulduggery was laughing. "Nice cover name, Valis. Mind my asking what your frantically thought up last name is?"

"I dunno. Awesome, I think."

"You picked Valis _Awesome_?"

Valkyrie grinned. "Thank you. _Now come and get me!_" She hung up and emerged from the cupboard. "I couldn't find your album Mrs. Gaffer."

"Such a shame," said the old lady, shuffling into the room with another cup of tea. "I was sure I had a photo of a shape-shifter."

Valkyrie sighed. "Mrs. Gaffer, what does a shape-shifter got to do with true names?"

"Oh, dearest, I can't seem to remember. Everything's all sort of blurry at the moment."

"Uh-huh."

"It was…important, though."

"I'm sure it was," Valkyrie said. She watched as Mrs. Gaffer's body went suddenly rigid. "Ah, Mrs. G? Are you okay?"

There was no response as the old lady's body started to shake ferociously.

Valkyrie took a few steps towards her, frightened for the elderly lady's wellbeing. "Mrs. G?" She placed a hand on the woman's arm, feeling the cold and dry papery texture of her old skin.

Mrs. Gaffer's mouth opened wide, her jaws unhinging with an audible crunch, an unearthly scream erupting from her lungs that had Valkyrie on the floor, blocking her ears in agony.

o)0+0(o

_Let me out! Set me free, Valkyrie! _Nothing_ will harm us again! I can heal all your wounds, if you just set me free! We can be together. _Work _together. Be one!_

Valkyrie shook the black spots from her eyes, fighting the bodily urge to fall into unconsciousness. Fighting the call of Darquess from the outer edges of her mind. Blood had pooled in her palms, her ears bleeding profusely as the body of Mrs. Garrison continued to tremble and scream uncontrollably. Her grey hair came from of its tight bun and floated around her head like a silver halo. Her pupils dilated to cover her sclera, and her widened jaw swung wildly.

_Banshee_, Valkyrie realised in horror. Suddenly all those banshee jokes she had made with Skulduggery didn't seem so funny.

Valkyrie couldn't hear the wild screams anymore, her eardrums thoroughly perforated, only the ringing sound of blood rushing to her head, and blood welling in her ears could be heard. And the call of Darquess.

Mrs. Gaffer gave one last howl of pain, long, needle-like claws protruding from her fingers.

Valkyrie heard nothing. But her brain vibrated, shaking like a bell after it had been struck. Gritting her bleeding teeth, Valkyrie made a mad crawl for the door.

She got to the doorway when Mrs. Gaffer lunged at her back, her sharp claws slicing through Valkyrie's jacket and against her skin. Sinking in and sticking.

Valkyrie cried out in anger and pain, rising to her feet shakily as she swung an elbow around to the old lady behind her. It collided with its swinging jaw and the creature reared backwards in pain, ejecting its claws from her back, leaving the spines embedded in her flesh.

It screamed again.

Valkyrie stumbled up the short hallway and into the kitchen, clutching her neck where even her vocal cords had begun to shake. Her brain rattled in her skull, her vision clouding.

_Now, Valkyrie, now! _

_No_, Valkyrie hissed, _not now._

_ The banshee is behind you._

"Aaaargh!" Valkyrie spun around in time to meet Mrs. Gaffer's attack, her fist colliding solidly into her nose. The creature hit the linoleum with a crack, its mouth sucking frantically on air as it struggled to fill its lungs.

"Oh no you don't!" Valyrie grunted, slamming her boot into the banshee's chest. It exhaled. No scream this time.

The creature grabbed her foot and pushed, toppling Valkyrie over. It scrambled on top of her, the gap of its mouth hanging over her face.

Valkyrie blanched, and struggled beneath the creature's lithe, soft, old body. The needled claws came again. Jabbing at her sides, sinking inward. Valkyrie grabbed the banshee's frail wrists, pulling the claws out with all the strength she could muster.

The banshee screamed again.

Valkyrie smashed the crown of head into its mouth before her eyesight could fail, stopping it dead as it bit down on her hair, growling angrily. Valkyrie held its wrists in a lock so it couldn't escape and it continued to gag on her skull, saliva running down the side of her face and probably into her hair.

Knees curled under the body of Mrs. Gaffer as Valkyrie pushed her off, the old woman's body flying across the kitchen like a ragdoll. It crashed against the wall and sunk to the floor like an injured animal, its black eyes locked angrily onto Valkyrie pulling herself up off the floor, summoning shadows to her and throwing them after the creature.

As the shadows enveloped the banshee darkness crept into Valkyrie's mind, permeating her soul.

_Kill it._

o)0+0(o

The front door exploded inwards and Skulduggery charged in, the silver flash of his gun in hand. He spotted the banshee covered in shadows and took a step back in surprise, before turning around to find Valkyrie, covered in blood and surrounded in darkness, her brown eyes blazing.

"Valkyrie," he shouted, rushing to her side, placing his hands on her narrow shoulders. They were ice cold. "Valkyrie, stop!"

A hand grabbed his wrist tightly and squeezed, the darkness around Valkyrie slowly dissipating. Her eyes focussing.

"I just want to, _kill_ it."

"I know, I know," Skulduggery urged, reaching down to grab the hand that wasn't gripping his wrist at her shoulder. He squeezed it. "But she's usually a harmless old lady."

"It's a _banshee_. It _attacked_ me. It _deserves_ to _die_."

"Valkyrie, you don't mean that." He felt her squeeze his hand in response. "Val? Is that you?"

She blinked, and shook her head. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Who else?"

"I should never have sent you here," said Skulduggery regretfully, "I thought I was keeping you out of harm's way. I'm so sorry, Valkyrie."

Valkyrie felt her knees buckle, and Skulduggery slid an arm under her shoulders. "Hey, it's all cool, partner." She gave a weak smile. "I kept a lid on ol' Darquess."

"Yes. Yes, you did. You were very strong. Now, we should really be going before old Mrs. Gaffer wakes up," he said, looking over at the banshee's unconscious body. "There are not a lot of people who can face a banshee and get away without brain damage." He felt Valkyrie slump further into him, giggling.

"Oh, you so funny, Skully."

"But then again, you already were brain damaged."

"Pfffffffft," her head lolled backwards with a broad, open grin, "no ways, stupid."

* * *

**Ah, I suffer without indents in my writing - the page can look so bland without those little indents! They make ALL the difference. Indents aside, if you enjoyed the story there's a little box, with "review" on it that is wanting to make acquaintance with your fine selves :D Many thanks comes you way!**

**What's that? Chapter two: a world of hurt, is coming soon? Yes! Does it feature the long awaited return of China Sorrows?**

**Hum. Maybe.**


	3. TWO: A World of Hurt

**CHAPTER TWO: A World of Hurt**

"All of it," Skulduggery said heatedly, throwing the steering wheel sharply to the right as the Bentley took a corner tightly, not slowing down. "Fill a whole _tub_ with it."

He listened to the reply.

"I owe you _nothing_," he growled, flicking his phone shut. He looked at Valkyrie through his rear view mirror. She laid across the back seats, pale as a ghost, an arm across her forehead. "How're you holding up?"

"Laaaaaaaaawl," Valkyrie giggled weakly, "holding what up?"

"Yourself, Valkyrie. Are you okay?" Valkyrie rolled to the edge of the back seat and dry wretched. Skulduggery winced visibly. "How's your head?"

"I dunno," she murmured, "can't feel it."

"The bleeding?"

"Dried up," she was falling into unconsciousness.

Skulduggery reached behind him and shook her forcefully. "Come on, Val," he urged, "A few more minutes and we'll have you right as rain."

Valkyrie laughed wearily. "What's up with rain being right?"

Skulduggery turned back to driving. "Perhaps people are smarter when it rains?"

"That makes sense."

"Most of what I say makes sense, Valkyrie."

"Nope. You know the colour pink?"

"I am aware of that particular hue in the colour spectrum."

"Pink. _Pink_, doesn't make sense."

"Why doesn't it?" Skulduggery asked. A red traffic light fast approached and the Bentley went screaming past it, cars blasting their horns indignantly.

"It follows you," Valkyrie whispered. "The _couch_ follows you."

"Perhaps it's fond of you?"

"Fondue?"

"No, _fond_. As in, _like_."

"Can you tell me a joke?"

"Valkyrie, I thought you would never ask."

o)0+0(o

Night had properly fallen over the small magical town when the blackness of the Bentley rolled up a gravel driveway, stopping a metre from the stairs of a quaint country mansion. A door opened, a rectangle of light flooded the steps as a gangly butler rushed from the house and descended the stairs with a horribly straight posture. He approached Skulduggery who came around the Bentley with speed, giving him a quick bow.

"Mister Pleasant, Miss Veda awaits. Make haste."

Skulduggery opened the back door and reached inside, taking Valkyrie up in his arms and carefully pulled her out of the car. She was limp, her arms swinging at her sides, her face indistinguishable from the blood caked on her skin. But she was still conscious despite her injuries.

"Another joke," she pleaded tiredly, her brown eyes rolled backward again as Skulduggery raced up the many stairs to the ebony black front door.

"As much as I appreciate you enjoying my jokes, Valkyrie, and believe me I'm going to miss you being so easy to humour, but right now I want you to concentrate on getting better, okay?"

Valkyrie gurgled happily in response.

Skulduggery followed the tailcoat of the tall man, taking long purposeful strides, ignoring the glamorous rooms that passed by, inviting him with the sheer luxuriousness of it all.

The butler halted outside a white door and knocked urgently. "Miss Vada, Mister Plea—OH MY!"

Skulduggery's leg shot out from under him, kicking the door inwards, letting it land with a crack on the marble tiles. The wood split in two and the detective stepped over it. The bathroom was alight with burning candles and sigils that lined the wall like illuminated wallpaper. He felt his magic constrict and drain from him.

Valkyrie's body went into shock. Her eyes rolled backwards into her skull, the white of her eyes bloodied, spattered with broken vessels. A woman stepped from the shadows, dressed in a satin-white gown, and pointed to the centre if the room where an old fashioned steel tub rested, filled with a silvery liquid.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"She laughed at all my jokes."

The woman's dark eyes widened fearfully. "Then it will have to be for at least five minutes."

Skulduggery clutched Valkyrie closer to him, her head bleeding again. The drip of her blood echoed in the room. "Fine."

He knelt and lowered Valkyrie's body into the liquid, folding her legs so she could fit her whole length inside. The woman stood on the other side, folding Valkyries shaking arms across her shoulders. She heard the regretful hiss of air escape Skulduggery's teeth as he pushed the young girl's head under the fluid.

"Try and hold your breath," Skulduggery said, knowing that Valkyrie had no way of hearing him now that her ears were once again profusely bleeding.

"She's going to struggle."

"I'm aware of that," the detective replied darkly.

"Whatever happens her head _must_ stay under the dampening solution, otherwise she'll-"

"I know what will happen," Skulduggery snapped, looking up at the beautiful woman standing over him, her pale face an emotionless mask. "I am fully aware of what banshees do to people, China."

China Sorrows clicked her tongue heatedly. "Then you should have applied that knowledge at some point _before_ letting your beloved lackey walk unknowingly into a banshee's residence."

Skulduggery's hollow eyes continued to gaze steadily at her, before returning his attention back on Valkyrie.

"_Especially_," continued China in dark and serious tones, "if she's this Darquesse everyone's been panicking about."

"China, your chances of staying alive after this are growing slimmer."

China shrugged the threat away. "Someone has to be blatant with you, Skulduggery."

Skulduggery made to reply when under his palms Valkyrie's shoulders heaved forward. Her eyes rolled forward in a terror that Skulduggery just couldn't shake as her dark irises landed on him. Her blood stained mouth opened, a rush of air escaped her lips and she inhaled.

Skulduggery pressed her down as she convulsed. Her hands flew to his bony wrists, trying to pry them from her shoulders. When she realised he wasn't letting go, she began clawing away ferociously, silvery liquid flowing over the tub's lip in waves.

China Sorrows got to her knees, drenching her favourite gown as she did so in a liquid she knew she could never get out and reached in, taking Valkyrie's hands away and holding them in her grip with surprising strength. Valkyrie began to kick.

"What kind of teenager has this strength!?" China grunted, struggling to pin Valkyrie's arms at her sides, sweat breaking across her perfect features.

"The very best," Skulduggery replied.

"Three minutes to go."

Skulduggery groaned as he continued to wrestle Valkyrie who seemed to only get stronger with every toss and turn, her eyes burned with rage. With a bubbling growl she wrenched her hands free from China and brought them forward at Skulduggery who dodged them, but fond his shoulders in her bone-crushing grip.

"Don't let her out!" China warned with a cry.

Skulduggery with a grunt leapt into the tub just as Valkyrie made to raise her head, and pinned her arms under his legs. "Calm down Valyrie!" He shouted, slamming her head backwards. "You _have_ to stay under!"

"A minute, Skulduggery," said China.

o)0+0(o

Inside Valkyrie's mind there were burning buildings, and smoke that rose in bellows of darkness, enveloping her whole mind, suffocating her. It was hard to breath. She tried to cough but there was a weight on her chest and she just couldn't summon the strength to rid herself from it.

The sky overhead was red and there was a golden glow in the distance. Valkyrie looked up at them, willing herself to move. But she was pinned to the ground, as though her arms and legs had merged with cracked cement around her. She was bleeding, but she wasn't sure where. After a minute of struggling she paused, caught her breath and looked to her left.

There was Darquesse, sitting beside her, legs drawn up under her chin, watching the glowing horizon with a dangerous look in her eyes.

"Hey," Valkyrie snapped indignantly, "A little help here?"

Darquesse looked down at her, eyebrows raised. "Ah, you're here, Valkyrie."

"Of course I am you homicidal maniac! Help me up!"

Darquesse shook her head. "You've got no body to help up, Val, you're just a mind. Your body is mine. I control it now."

"What!?" Valkyrie struggled harder against her binds. "You can't have, I would know!"

"You also think we can't destroy the world, but look around," she spread an arm to the devastation. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Pfft, sure, if you like being alone in your own mess." Valkyrie replied sarcastically.

"But I do. Look at that!" She pointed to the golden glow ahead. "That's the sun."

Valkyrie watched Darquesse as she grinned, fear building in the non-existing pit of her gut.

"You know how we're going to do it, Val?" said Darquesse softly. "We're going to destroy a city on every continent. Make everyone know who we are, make them fear us. Make them realise it's impossible to stop us. It'll also give Skulduggery a chance to chase _us_ around for once. That'll be a nice change, won't it? Well, I think so. Then we'll take the sun out. And it'll be all darkness all the time. And the humans will try and dig out safety underground, and we'll leave them be, because they'll be fun to torture. They'll be the most scared. Any bet Skulduggery will be their leader. He'll be their hope, and then we will kill them too. And we leave that skeleton to perish on the remains of his stupid earth."

"Wow, you have given this a _lot _of thought," Valkyrie said, almost impressed despite herself. "But, ah, what's up with not killing Skulduggery right up? That's kind of weird."

"Because he _deserves_ to live in a world of hurt. Everything around him is going to burn. But you'll understand soon enough, Valkyrie," Darquesse replied, chuckling.

From above came a blinding flash of white light. Valkyrie wanted to raise a hand to shield her eyes, except she was sort of bodiless at that moment. Instead she heard Darquesse laugh.

"Looks like its time!"

"_No!_" Valkyrie erupted from the ground with such forced she could feel the earth split, her hand reaching out for Darquesse. Her fingers caught the killer by her upper arm and Valkyrie heard the squelch of bone and muscles splitting.

o)0+0(o

Skulduggery felt dread rise as Valkyrie went limp under China and himself, her body falling into stillness, but her eyes still staring into his. Then she blinked.

"Oh no," China gasped, pulling back slightly but still holding the girl down. "Is this…?"

"Darquesse."

Beneath the silver liquid Darquesse grinned manically at them.

* * *

**First of, a big shout out to everyone who has reviewed :D Thankyou fellow peeps for giving me a moment of you time to express your interest in this story. I appreciate it so highly! Please keep it up, your comments are the fuel to my writing :) And it'd be awesome if you guys pick up and error to just point it out to me - I'm a stickler for spelling, but things do slip past my human eyes ;)**

**About this chapter: Yus, it's kinda 'in-the-dark' chapter, but all will be revealed soon! I promise!**

**Chapter Three: _The Merging_ will be up next, after a short word from our corporate sponsor...insert elaborate imagination here!**


	4. THREE: The Merging

**CHAPTER THREE: The Merging**

Darquesse's eyes widened, her mouth parted slightly in a surprised sneer of masked pain, as she stared at Valkyrie, a formless creature bending the elements into a vague body around her. The thing crushing the life from her arm was a hand carved from charred cement, slowly gripping now onto the bone, then, with a snap, severed the arm off completely.

Valkyrie hurled Darquesse away from her by the stump and she flew across the upturned street into the side of an old sedan. The car collapsed from the impact and folded into itself in a shower of glass and a scream of metal. Breathing heavily, Valkyrie picked up her arm from the ground.

"Well," she said darkly, crossing the road, "that's a start."

Darquesse pushed herself out from the folds of the metal around her, anger pulsating in her veins, the blood dripped freely from her severed limb until she commanded that it stop. She looked up as the strange body of her alternative self hovered over her.

"_My_ body," Valkyrie hissed, her arm hanging limp in one hand which she used to point threateningly at Darquesse. "And unless you want your butt kicked from Dublin to Cork and back, then I suggest you give up the rest of it before I take it off you, in _pieces_."

Valkyrie moved backwards as Darquesse lashed out in a fury of shadows, using footwork where her arm was lacking to kick up the darkness. The shadows hit a wall that erupted from the cement beneath them, blocking off any further attacks; deep gashes sliced the stone work like butter until there was nothing left.

Darquesse stepped forward, her legs poised beneath her as the wall crumbled away leaving no trace of Valkyrie anywhere. With a growl, she spun around bringing her arm to her face, blocking the rock hard punch from Valkyrie.

Darquesse grunted, her arm popping beneath the pressure of the attack. She pushed Valkyrie back, her arm healing almost immediately as she threw a spear of darkness.

It pierced the elemental cocktail that made Valkyrie's body and passed harmlessly through, dissipating a few feet behind her.

"Whoa," Valkyrie could feel herself grinning, not sure of what her new face looked like: she hoped it was intimidating. "How _awesome_ am I right now?!"

Darquesse stood rigid, breathing heavily; shadows wrapped themselves about her feet, flaring like angry pythons. "I want your powers."

"Too bad, these are mine."

Darquesse leaped into the air her fist embedding itself into the elemental mass of Valkyrie's midriff. Valkyrie felt nothing but the queer sensation of someone passing through her in a ghost like fashion. With a howl of laughter Valkyrie retaliated, her clenched hand morphed into a jousting javelin and she uppercut her evil nemesis in the gut. Blood spewed forth, and Valkyrie suddenly felt very uneasy and light headed. She felt charged, like she was draining something out of Darquesse and filtering it through herself, making her tingle all over.

Darquesse ripped herself in half to escape the skewer and the draining of her powers, falling sideways onto the road below them. By the time she hit the ground her body had healed and Valkyrie watched her with interest as she struggled to get to her feet, her hand pressed firmly to the spot where the spear had pierced her flesh. Darquesse looked up at Valkyrie, her face filled with wild rage and fury as she seemed to sum up her chances.

With a final snarl Darquesse disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

Valkyrie sighed, exhausted but exhilarated at the same time, and gave herself a high five.

o)0+0(o

China Sorrows pressed her thumbs against the insides of her wrists and the bathroom glowed green, an energy sigil peeled back from the wall and charged over to the tub. A blast of light erupted from it, illuminating the room in a solid colour before dimming.

Skulduggery looked at China in what he hoped she read as being incredulous. "Binding won't work," he said, as electrical cords wrapped about Darquesse's body. She lunged, teeth bared, the binding pulsed brightly and held her back.

"Well what do _you_ have in mind!" China snapped, tapping more Binding sigils to life.

Skulduggery grunted as Darquesse's wild eyes rolled backwards into her head, she gave one last push against him, before her mouth opened and she deflated beneath him like a wet balloon. There was a sudden silence as the splashes and sounds of struggle stopped, only the hum of the binding sigils could be heard.

"Lift her up!"

Skulduggery hesitated momentarily before obeying, raising Valkyrie's head above the level of the liquid before stepping out of the bathtub, dripping. Waving a hand he pulled the rest of the liquid from her lungs and flung it aside, splashing China ever so slightly, who looked on with a hint of disgust as Skulduggery lifted Valkyrie from the solution. He rested her gently on the soaked floors.

"I am really, very sorry about this, Valkyrie," he said, balling his bony fists together over her chest and bringing them down with a hollow thump.

o)0+0(o

When Valkyrie came around several things took her immediate notice. The first was the pain in her head. She reached a hand to her ears to find them caked in some sort of greyish slime, which she quickly wiped onto the bed sheets with a slight sniff. The second thing she noticed was on trying to sit up her chest felt like someone had hit her with a wrecking ball. Tenderly she unbuttoned her silk gown, wondering also how she came to be wearing it, and looked down past her clavicle to see blue knuckles imprinted in her pale skin. She examined them for a bit, frowned, and redid the button. The final thing which irked her was the last memory she had: Skulduggery drowning her. A twang of fury passed over her at the thought. He was going to be sorry when she found him.

A door opened somewhere and a lanky man of about forty came out from behind a pair of heavy velvet drapes, his back seeming to have the power of levitation as he approached Valkyrie's lavish bed, carrying a silver tray.

"Miss Cain, your breakfast," he said curtly, his accent was Welsh and he had a prized bar-moustache beneath the dip of his sharp nose, "Eggs Benedict with the choice of apple or orange juice." He placed the tray on the bedside stand and reached under the bed for something, pulling out a small bed table which he placed over Valkyries knees.

"Ah," said Valkyrie dubiously, "this is all nice, and stuff, but who are you and where am I?" She nodded around the room.

"I am the valet de chambre for Miss Darlington Vada," he announced promptly. "And you are at Wickerly Manor."

Valkyrie nodded dumbly. "Uh-huh. Well, I don't know what either of those things is, so…what's your name?"

"My name is Valet Chambers," said the valet, setting the tray onto the bed table.

Valkyrie raised her eyebrows sceptically. "Your name is your _occupation_?"

"Yes, quite."

"Well," said Valkyrie, rather amazed, "that's convenient."

Valet the valet smiled at her, nodded politely, and seemed to levitate back out of the room with soundless steps. Valkyrie watched him go, slightly creeped out before turning onto her breakfast and devouring with gusto.

"Someone's eating like a famished fat man," came the smooth mellow voice of Skulduggery as he pulled back the drapes Valet had stepped out under from, revealing a large mahogany door behind him.

Valkyrie inhaled sharply, choking on her eggs, pointing a silver fork at the skeleton. She grabbed her juice, swallowed furiously and threw her fork at him. He side stepped it and it tinkled onto the floor. "_You were trying to drown me_!" She shouted, pulling back as he approached her bed, clutching the bruise at her chest as she did so.

Skulduggery paused; his head lowered and he glanced sideways at her. "It was for your own good."

"What if I fell unconscious?" Valkyrie exclaimed. "Then _she_ would have been all out and about and _everything would be destroyed_!" She shouted the last bit at him, her shoulders shaking with anger.

Skulduggery's jaw opened, about to answer when another person stepped into the room. "Quite so, dear Valkyrie. It's time you two stop letting everything knock up to pot luck and figure out a solution, or else we're all going to be on the receiving end of a very, _very _bad day."

She was a beautiful woman, her hair falling to the length of her waist, her eyes bright and her skin pale, the gown around her was elaborately bordered with gold and green leaves on a pale pink robe.

Valkyrie blinked. "Chi-"

Skulduggery placed a hand over her mouth as China closed the doors behind her and approached the bed.

"It's Darlington Vada now, dear."

Valkyrie grit her teeth together, shaking off the bony hand. "Whatever. I'm furious with you also," she snapped.

"Well, I _am _the one that saved your brain from melting, Miss Cain," she said cooly. "So I believe you owe me some humility and gratitude."

Instead, Valkyrie glowered at her. "I was healing myself. I would've been fine. I've come back from decapitation for god's sake!"

Skulduggery shook his head. "You were attacked by a banshee."

"So?"

"You don't listen to a banshee scream for good reason."

"I figured that when Mrs. Gaffer blew my ears out!"

"Valkyrie, you got severe Pitch Reecho."

Valkyrie blinked. "Is that serious?"

Skulduggery took this as an opportunity to sit on the edge of her bed and received a frown for his efforts, clearly not on her good-list yet. "Banshee screams are pitched to a frequency which lacerates the brain, chopping it up into tiny pieces and then, with their long needle claws, they whisk it out of your ears and uses it to garland salads."

Valkyrie looked at the yolk of her eggs spewed across the plate, congealing as they cooled down, and felt something squirm in her gut. "Ugh. Really?"

"Yes."

"The brain can be healed if you get to it quickly enough and you have a doctor who deals with that kind of thing," China explained, standing still and emotionless behind Skulduggery. "But what happens most often is that the patient dies anyway."

"Oh joy."

"Because the pitch continues to vibrate throughout the brain it'll keep echoing until it phases out to nothing or, well, it keeps happening even when you're dead. So basically, dear, you could have healed yourself a million times over and spent the rest of your days with mild brain damage and haemorrhaging," she shrugged, "but you seemed happy enough."

"_What_?"

"You wanted me to tell you jokes," Skulduggery informed, "so to keep you conscious I gave you a repertoire of my most original and funniest capers." He cocked his head at Valkyrie who was frowning at him, confused. "You _loved _them. I felt appreciated for once. I remembered _why_ I do this job."

Valkyrie shook her head. "I remember none of this."

"That's for the best, love," said China solemnly, "You laughed at so many bone jokes I felt embarrassed for you."

Valkyrie cringed inside, her chest screaming out at her and she put a hand over her heart once more. "So how's the drowning all tie in?" She scowled at the skull looking at her, his shoulders had gathered in concern.

"Damper's Solution," replied China with a slight smile, "created by yours truly, and quite literally the only solution around for miles."

"It absorbs the Pitch Reecho," Skulduggery said, answering Valkyries confused face. "It takes three minutes, usually, to absorb a banshee echo, but you had healed with the echo in you, and in the end we went for five. So we had to hold you under the solution."

"I didn't breath for _five_ minutes?

"Yes."

"Why couldn't I take a breath? What if _she_ came out when I fell unconscious?!"

China frowned. "Obviously the moment you resurface, the echo, if not completely eradicated, will continue to reverberate. And you'd be happily brain damaged forever."

"Ah." Valkyrie looked at Skulduggery, her eyebrows knitted in apology. "Sorry."

"Well, I did drown you," Skulduggery admitted openly, "and you did technically die."

"That doesn't make sense," Valkyrie said with a frown, "Darquesse always surfaces before that point."

"I'm well aware," said Skulduggery solemnly, "and she did, but," he shrugged, "something happened and it was just you."

There was a silence as Valkyrie studied China's alabaster smooth face, trying to read her thoughts.

"I have known that you're Darquesse for a while now," she answered, having determined the question from Valyrie's own mind. "But you're secret is safe with me."

"We'll see," Skulduggery replied gravely.

Valkyrie frowned down at her now cold breakfast, memories of her dream coming to light now that she focused on them. "Something happened between Darquesse and me," she started, earning the immediate attention of the two at her bedside. "She had taken over my body, and I was just, I don't know, consciousness I think. And she was about to escape from my mind and break free when I suddenly pulled together a body from my elemental powers and…I'm not sure what happened, but I think I injured her."

Skulduggery's head bent to one side. "You injured her?"

"Yeah. I punched her in the gut and I felt this surge of energy pass into me, like it was mine, and it wanted to come back. I only got a fraction of it, but when Darquesse got away she healed herself but whatever happened, it affected her. Big time." She paused in a moment's silence. "I can't even hear her at the moment."

Skulduggery lifted the tip of his hat and turned to China, sharing a look.

* * *

**Welp, fourth chapter up! I hope you guys like it - I like this one WAY better than the last one, which i was a little iffy about but decided to use it instead of re-writing it. This chapter was half done when I thought, nope, yuck, not bloody enough. So started it with a Battle Royale between Val and Darq :D Hope y'all digged it. Trying to keep a balance between the dialogue and description because i have a description addiction -_- it's real peoples.**

**And a super awesome thanks to xAriannA SerenitYx :D Who has reviewed every chapter thus far! THANKYOU!**

**Explanation on China's new life coming in laaaater chapters. **

**Considering of posting some art for this so you guys know how characters like Tomas Blurr and Valet Chambers look. ;D Something to look forward to.**

**Chapter Four: The Crane already ready for posting! So expect it soon-moon sheep-balloon!**

**RE/EDIT: Fixed some spelling and grammar stuff! Aaaand did it again -_-**


	5. FOUR: The Crane

**CHAPTER FOUR: The Crane**

Ravel fell exhausted into his chair, head in his hands as he scratched at his scalp in desperate frustration.

"But why here?" he said, a strain of anger in his tried voice. "I thought the situation was contained in London? For once we didn't have the bloody god-forsaken scourge of a stinking Supreme Sanctuary on our backs because someone _else_ was doing a worse job than us!" He looked up at Ghastly. "Just what in the blazes is wrong with this world?"

The Elder shrugged his heavy shoulders. "It's debatable."

"Ugh," Ravel groaned, rocking back and forwards in his chair, kneading his eyes with the base of palms. "You don't know, do you?"

"It would be beside the point," Ghastly said matter-of-factly, "And it wouldn't change much."

"Except for the fact that our Mortal-to-Magic correspondents are dropping like airborne bricks onto that thin, _thin _barrier which keeps mortals on one side and sorcerers on the other." He lowered his hands and looked at the creases, flexing his fingers gently. "And now Senior Frederick Crumbly being bait for some pyromanic murderer? What in the blazes was the English Sanctuary _thinking_?"

Ghastly sighed darkly, a weariness overpowering him too as he pulled up a chair and sat across the Grand Mage's table, leaning forward on his elbows. "We've dealt with worse," he said, consoling the man who seemed on the verge of breaking point. "And yes, it was a foolish and selfish action on those other sanctuaries behalf but we'll do what we have always done: don't point fingers and keep it all bottled up, and maybe spread the odd rumour here and there."

Ravel met Ghastly's eyes evenly, the colour of his irises all but swallowed by the bloodshot veins in his oculars. "I just don't see how this is going to end well, Ghastly. The magical world suddenly uprising like this? It's suspicious. And you know what, it's too organised." He frowned. "It's not like the bad guys we faced before, where we just went in, guns blazing and took everyone out who we didn't like. No. This is clever."

Ghastly nodded, listening intently. "I would agree, except we have no real way to know at the moment. And if it is organised by some head or another we will find it and bring it down."

Ravel's frown deepened, his eyes glowered at something non-existent on his desk, his teeth biting his lower lip.

Ghastly narrowed his eyes. "Why?" He asked. "Who do you think the head is?"

The Grand Mage's eyes flicked to the door and he whispered: "The Supreme Council of Elders."

Ghastly would have made a rebuttal if it weren't for the deathly seriousness in Ravel's bloodied eyes. So dark were they that even Ghastly felt something akin to fear make roost on the back of his neck, weighing down his shoulders.

"I have no way of knowing," Ravel continued quietly, his pale lips moving only a hairs breadth for each word. "I have no proof, _yet_, but I already know."

The door burst open and Erskine Ravel jumped visibly in his chair, his red eyes wide in fear as a young man ran into the room, blue clipboard nested in the crock of his arm. His attire was messed from running, a black vest with a white short-sleeved shirt on was creased and disheveled. His skin was pale, almost verging blue, and the colours of his eyes seem to shift with the light. Under the glare of the lamps around the room his pupils dilated to almost nothing, giving him a wild, frantic look about him.

"Sir," he panted, closing the door hurriedly behind him, taking a moment to ensure that it was closed securely before striding towards the two men sitting pensively in their chairs - the Grand Mage looking more and more paranoid. "Excuse my interrupting, but they're taking the man, Thomas Blurr from the Crumbly incident, out of the infirmary and into the interrogation rooms."

Ghastly rose to his feet with such speed his chair flew backwards away from him. "_Who_ authorised this!? That man was not to be disturbed."

"The Supreme Council," said the young man, unshaken by the boxer's sudden rage, even though he towered over him. "They said, and I quote: _Important information needs to be extracted from that man immediately. Any delay to retrieve that information will be considered treachery by the Supreme Council, and be looked upon with great suspicion_."

Ghastly breathed heavily through his nose. "Did you do anything? You didn't fight them did you?"

"No. I came straight to find you."

"You need a cell phone, Agog," Ghastly snapped, almost sprinting to leave the room, the boy on his heels.

"I know," Agog replied sadly.

Ghastly opened the door and looked back at the sullen features of Ravel, glowering at him behind his desk. He just gave a single, knowing nod as he closed the door and left him to his own devices.

o)0+0(o

Ghastly walked purposefully down the jail corridor, following his young protégé, a Necromancer, who had his powers stored in his earrings in an emo-rock-goth-punk-like fashion – or whatever it was the kids were into nowadays. Ghastly scowled distastefully at them.

Agog Bloodwell was not the usual Necromancer, due mainly to the fact he was overly optimistic, and optimism wasn't a trait found often in sorcerers who dealt with death. Nor did it make him popular among them. He was rather gifted, however, and when the other Necromancers finally had their patience with him diminish Ghastly found himself quickly stepping forward to take him under his wing out of sheer curiosity.

The boy was an odd case. His was studious, as all born Necromancers were but with a heart warming love for life and this dreadfully annoying capability to enjoy every boring minute of it. Ghastly often wondered what had happened to him in his early life to make him so _different_.

Bloodwell peered into the cell that held the man and turned to Ghastly as the Elder came up beside him.

"Well, that's him." Bloodwell said quietly, a pen denting the underside of his lip in thought. "He prevented the death of Senior What's-his-face with just _pure luck." _He gushed 'pure luck' like it was some kind of unfathomable power.

Ghastly leaned in beside the boy and looked into the dark room where a thin man sat, chained and bound to the wall. He looked to the entire world like a normal human. But clearly there must have been something odd about him for the Supreme Council to suddenly have their fangs bared over his jugular.

"Anything special?"

"We're not sure," Bloodwell murmured, "seems to be just an irregularly tall dude."

_"Irregular_ spells all sort of trouble," Ghastly grunted, then nodded to the door's lock. "Open her up then, Agog."

Thomas Blurr lifted his head and did a double take as a sharply dressed man with a scalp full of scars and eyes that gleamed death came towards him with horrifying purposefulness. His composure was one of strength, his shoulders inhumanly broad, and power seemed to ooze from his very pores. Hell, even from his very _clothes_. Blurr swallowed, and shuffled closer to the wall.

Ghastly raised a palm, albeit a horrifyingly large palm, at him to calm down, but instead earned a wide-eyed stare of terror as the man stared at the approaching size of his open hand. Ghastly sighed and turned to Bloodwell who seemed a little concerned for the man in chains.

"Calm down, sir," Ghastly said softly, lowering his offensively large palm. "We're just looking for answers."

Blurr swallowed, his eyes darting from Ghastly to the young man dressed like a punk still standing at the door of the room, eyebrows knitted in curiosity as he watched the proceedings. "What do you people want? What _are _you all!?"

Ghastly drew up a wooden interrogation chair that he favoured amicably for its splintering properties and sat down on it, placing his elbows on his legs and leaning forward in a friendly fashion but only succeeding in making the ridges of his scars all more visible. "Formalities first, I think. My name is Elder Ghastly Bespoke; I am the third member of the Council of Elders who governs the magical world here, at the Sanctuary. I am a four-hundred year old elemental sorcerer but I prefer to make clothes and do a bit of boxing in my spare time. This here," continued Ghastly, motioning Bloodwell to his side who did so obediently, with a surely nod and smile at the unfortunate man, "is Agog Bloodwell, he's nineteen…and a bit of a weird-o," he added with a smile, his square teeth shinning in the dim light of the cell. "Now you."

"Umm," Blurr began huskily, clearing his throat fruitlessly. "I'm Thomas Blurr, I'm forty. I live in Cork and I work during the day as an accountant."

"Nice and short. Good." Ghastly nodded. "So tell me, Thomas, why were you out so late at night?"

"I was patrolling the streets. I'm a masked vigilante."

"So, you fight crime?"

"Yes."

"In your spare time, I assume?"

"Whenever I can."

Ghastly leaned back into his chair, rubbing his scarred chin. "Interesting."

Blurr moved uncomfortably in his shackles and looked up at his captor imploringly. "Are these necessary?"

"I'm afraid a higher jurisdiction is over riding my urge to take them off," said Ghastly apologetically. "Some people want to figure out what you are and your involvement with the magical uprising situation that is currently filling up our precious time."

"I have no idea what you're on about!" Blurr cried and pulled against his chains and felt a lightning bolt of pain cross his chest. He gasped aloud.

"Agog and I believe you," Ghastly reassured him, his eyebrows knitted in concern. "But you have to tell us what you saw that night. Everything. Every little detail. And be quick about it…please," he added with another smile.

With fear climbing the chords of his vocals, Thomas Blurr told them everything it was that he could remember, down to the very details that he could never decipher from the man who emitted flames all about his body.

"But I'm an innocent man!" Blurr concluded. "Just take one look at me!"

Ghastly did, his eyes landing on the creature's long legs. "An eight foot man?"

"It's…" stuttered Blurr, feeling panic rise, "it's a condition!"

The boy, Agog Bloodwell, cocked his head to one side, his black earrings that dangled from his lobes tinkled like silver chimes and Blurr, for the second time, did a double take as the young man's voice came out in an eerily husky voice, very much like dead leaves moving across cement. "It's a condition caused by magic," he said, and Blurr knew he would be having nightmares narrated in this boy's voice for years to come. "The only creature I know that has this similar "condition" is Doctor Nye."

Ghastly raised his eyebrows at the young man. "Nye? Really? This man looks nothing like it! Not even I would be that cruel to suggest he's akin to that _thing_."

Boodwell shrugged, face to his paper and scribbling notes on his board. "Nye's thousands of years old probably. A lot of stuff can mutilate someone in that time."

"No doubt," Ghastly replied thoughtfully, looking Blurr up and down. "Agog, what do you make of this case?"

"It's strange," Bloodwell admitted, taping the pen on his nose, "But I think it's just another fine example of wrong place, wrong time."

"Yes," said Ghastly slowly, his eyes locked onto the man still wearing the patient's gown from the infirmary. He was tousled, but had fine features and thin, black eyes. "So what is it that they want to get out of you?"

Blurr didn't respond, he seemed to be breathing heavily now. Whatever medication that was warring off the pain had begun to fade from his system.

"Blurr," Ghastly said sternly, "I know this doesn't seem like a great place, and you're hurt and confused, but listen to me: there is going to be a hell of a lot more to come."

Blurr looked up with wide eyes. "Was that comfort!?"

"No, I was preparing you. There are people that think you're involved somehow. They're probably coming right now to interrogate you, and they're not going to be friendly about it. I need you to be strong, stick to that story and don't stray from it."

Blurr nodded, swallowing loudly.

"I mean it," Ghastly said darkly, "_stick_ to it. And whatever you do, do not tell them that Agog and myself was here. You spoke to no one," he stood up; Blurr's desperate eyes followed him. "So, you need to take a new name."

"Why?!"

"Because you can be controlled with the one you have now."

"So a name? Any name?"

"One that you want to live by, yes."

Blurr answered without hesitation. "Crane."

"Crane what?"

"Just, the Crane."

Ghastly nodded to him solemnly. "Stand strong, Crane."

It was then that those words took away all the fear and pain in Thomas Blurr's body; he was no longer the abnormal eight foot tall guy with a lust for heroics. He was now The Crane and acknowledged by this strangely powerful man as such.

He nodded at Ghastly, he jaw firm, and the two men left the room, closing the door quietly behind themselves.

The soft sound of wood on stone echoed in the room, as The Crane waited.

o)0+0(o

Ghastly closed the door and let out a sad exhale of air.

"You did what was right, sir," said Agog certainly, his dark eyes wide with conviction.

"Perhaps," he said gruffly, "but to leave an innocent man to the interrogation room for my own purposes," he shook his head angrily. "Ravel was right; what kind of world has this come to?"

The two stopped their walk down the hall as voices and footsteps approached them. Without a word Ghastly placed his hand on his protégé's shoulder and shadows swallowed them whole. When the shadows dissipated to reveal the storage closet, Ghastly found himself angry as to why he had to sneak around his own sanctuary like a criminal.

* * *

**Wow...had to rewrite this chapter too! Was sooooo tedious! This is basically two chapters merged together because the first of the two was an introductory one, where you get to meet the new character Agog :) but more indepth. I ditched a good lot of it. He'll prolly develop more as I write on-wards anyways. Like Blurr will - there's always that character that is pretty vague at the beginning and then suddenly becomes the pivot of the plot later down the track in Landey's books - which is why i love them so much!**

**Agog is Ghastly's new little lackey, the kid does all the book keeping for him that he would otherwise have to do. And he does a good job of it. Plus, he gets a place to stay in the sanctuary because he was kicked out from the Necromancy Temple.**

**Please, if you have a moment! Review! Any comment is welcome :D**

**WHAT SHOULD THE NEXT CHAPTER BE!? I know it's going to be either a continuation focused on at the Sanctuary, or should I flick back to Val, Skul, and China? Tell me in ya review!**

**:D Ciao-meow**


	6. FIVE: Small Hopes Left

**CHAPTER FIVE: Small Hopes Left**

It was another dreamy autumn afternoon with a cool breeze blowing intermittently rousing the golden leaves that had begun to fall on the cobble path leading from the manor's backdoor and out into the gardens. The Wickerly Manor's ground was, like China herself, beautiful. The lawn was trim and neat, and as green as grass could grow, but twice as soft – obviously China used some sort of magic to make it so thick and spongy, which Valkyrie found amazing to roll around on. A little further along the path was the flower beds, all the flowers in bloom despite the cool weather and they gently tapped each other in the wind, shining brightly. Yet father ahead was a wall of vegetation, deep dark bushes that had leaves so green they were almost black in colour.

Here the wind seemed to avoid, and Skulduggery passed the rearing stallion-bush with slight foreboding as he followed China into the maze.

They walked side by side in silence, their footsteps falling simultaneously, and ventured deep enough through the corridors until their steps were the only sounds heard.

At last they came to the centre. It was a large spacious piece of ground with a small fountain residing in its epicentre. A faun blew water from out of its horn, letting it fall into the pond below it with a hollow trickle. A bench was placed on the outer edge, against the dark leaves of the maze, and China made for it, sitting down delicately and drawing her gown up around her as she did.

China patted the space next to her, but Skulduggery didn't oblige himself and so remained standing, his arms folded across his chest. His dark eyes looking down.

"How did you know about Valkyrie?" He asked. His usually warm and smooth tones laced with ice.

China had to arch her neck to face him, and would have complained if she hadn't found herself hoping to earn some of his trust back. Although she frequently denied it in her heart, the detective duo was the only thing that resembled some sort of friendship in her increasingly solitary life.

"I followed some clues," China told him softly, bearing herself in his eyes, "And had the help from a sensitive."

Skulduggery was silent as he studied the beautiful woman before him. "I can't leave you while you know that."

"I'm aware of that, Skulduggery," she said, bowing her head to her feet. "And I'm also aware you come seeking an answer that will spare dear Valkyrie."

"Yes," his voice was emotionless. His body frozen and unmoving.

"I have looked," China began cautiously, "A bigger container for her power, perhaps? Some absorbing sigils carved into her skin – all these things will work to hold back the surge of Darquesse. But it's only temporary, and it won't prevent the inevitable."

"We had planned to induce a coma so that she could never waken."

China paused as she thought about this theory and nodded slowly. "It has its flaws, but it is certainly possible."

"Only that was before we discovered Darquesse over powers her when Valkyrie falls unconscious, or in a deep enough sleep."

China detected the hint of desperation in the skeleton's voice and lifted her gaze to meet his. "I'm afraid that's a flaw not worth risking."

"I know, but the options I thought Valkyrie had are fading, and it's become harder and harder to find new ones to replace them," he tightened his arms across his chest. "I've dragged her across the country, but it's hard to search for something when you're unable to tell anyone about it."

China went quiet. Over head a crow cawed, landing on the fountain with a soft clicking of its long talons. It cawed again.

"And, what if you cannot find an answer?"

Skulduggery said nothing; his face had turned towards the black bird snatching up the water trickling from the faun's horn.

China frowned. "Surely you two have spoken-"

"She would want me to be the one to finish her," Skulduggery cut her off angrily, his voice dangerous. His head snapped back around to stare at her threateningly.

"And will you?" China asked softly. She reached out a hand to his shoulder, which he looked at, and waited for a response.

The skeleton remained quiet.

"_Will you?_" China pressed. Her eyes widened when Skulduggery took her hand from off his shoulder and she let it drop to her side in shock and fear. "You would let this world _burn_?!"

_"Yes."_

But he never said it aloud.

o)0+0(o

Valkyrie was rolling in the golden leaves when she noticed Skulduggery emerge, striding fast back towards the manor, almost as though he wished not to see her.

"Hey!" She called, rolling onto her knees and jumping to her feet. "Skulduggery, wait up!"

Skulduggery didn't stop, but slowed enough for her to join his side.

"So what'd China, or Miss _Darlington_, say?" she asked, snickering to herself at China's expense.

Skulduggery stopped and looked down at her, causing Valkyrie to swerve around sharply to his side.

Valkyrie felt her chest clench in panic. She had never seen him so serious before. Something about the way his aura bled darkness through his very being made her want to run away and cry.

She fought the dumb emotions down and grabbed his arm supportively. "Skulduggery?" She whispered, uncertain.

"I'm going back to speak with Mrs Gaffer," he said listlessly. "I want to exhaust all our options before we're forced to start anew."

Valkyrie swallowed. Skulduggery was angry. At what, she wasn't sure, although she had her suspicions.

"Don't bother!" Valkyrie said, tightening he grip on the bone of his arm. "If she had something to say, I would've got it out of her!"

Skulduggery sighed. "She's the _only_ one who knows _anything_ about this Valkyrie."

"You couldn't get any more out of her than what I got! And all she said before she banshee'd out on me was something about shape-shifters," Valkyrie insisted. "And then she tried to chew my face off! It was scary, Skulduggery!" She shook his arm. "Skul? Are you even _listening?_"

"She said shape-shifter, did she?"

"Yeah," Valkyrie grumbled, upset that _that_ was all he got from what she said. "She said she had a photo of one and everything."

Skulduggery's mouth did an unusual thing. It fell open, and dropped to the bottom notch with a small clack and then smartly closed again. Valkyrie skipped back in fright when he launched at her, grabbing her upper arms and lifting her to the toes of her feet.

"Did you say she had a photo of a shapeshifter?" he asked in all seriousness.

"Skulduggery, are you-"

He shook her furiously. "Her _exact _words, Valyrie!"

"Y-yeah! Y-yeah. _Knock it off!_" Valkyrie wrestled out his grip heatedly, whacking his hands away from her as he tried to grab her again, over-excitement permeating from his actions. "No," she warned darkly.

He opened his arms. "Hug then."

"Fine," she groaned and jumped into his arms. "Still hope then, Skulduggery?"

She felt his answer vibrate through his rib-cage, tickling her nose. "Always hope, Valkyrie."

o)0+0(o

It had been this way for a few months, ever since the incident when Valkyrie had woke up as Darquesse after her subconscious had fallen entirely into sleep. On that night she had all but destroyed Gordon's Estate and throttled Skulduggery quite close to the point of disrepair before he managed to subdue her _with his charm_, he told her later, when she was lying in the Sanctuary hospital.

The estate was in much needed repair and they claimed insurance on the extensive fire damage. It was presently being rebuilt back to the way it had been before, with a few minor improvements that were being over looked by Gordon, who was safely locked away in the library, eager to walk about the new house the moment construction was complete.

The incident however, had almost broken Valkyrie's resolve.

And it had almost broken Skulduggery's as he carried her shattered body away from the flames, her limbs were broken and bent in so many angles that it was frightful to look at them correct themselves in the rapid healing process. Skulduggery had to assure that firemen she was fine, even though she shouted shouting for him to end her life. Screamed to die.

For weeks after she refused to sleep until one night, when she was in fits of anguish, Skulduggery sat beside her in bed and stroked her hair. By the time morning rose she had finally fallen to some state of sleep, still sobbing quietly in her dreams.

And that was how they slept from that night on.

When China entered the room silently she stood for a moment, watching the two talk to each other about things long past. Valkyrie was lying on her side, one arm supporting her head while Skulduggery sat in a chair only a step's distance away from her. Their voices occasionally harmonised in laughter, until little by little Valkyrie's voice deepened and slowed and very soon she was saying good night to the skeleton.

It was then that China knew Skulduggery could never hurt her. The bond had grown too strong.

China left as quietly as she had come. If Skulduggery couldn't kill her and she was destined to become Darquesse, where did that leave him?

_At her side,_ China thought bitterly. _Skulduggery, you're going to be the end to us all_.

o)0+0(o

Valkyrie had woken suddenly from her dreamless sleep. She studied the top of her four poster bed, reading the grain of the wood like a story. Her vision had been improving somewhat and she feared that like she feared sleeping, or being awake, or just being herself.

She listened out for Darquesse, but heard nothing except the wail of her own thoughts tormenting her. Valkyrie sighed and rolled on her side where Skulduggery meditated, his face laying backwards with his hat on top, covering his eye sockets. She reached across the space to his closest knee and shook it gently.

"Hey," she whispered, "are you awake?"

She waited in the silence in which Skulduggery replied ironically.

"Naturally," he whispered back, reaching up and taking his hat from his head and lowering it on to his lap. He flicked something from it idly, before turning his dark eyes onto her. "Can't sleep?"

Valkyrie shook her head. "No."

"Either," the detective muttered, readjusting his posture in the seat for whatever reason he had for doing so.

"Are you worried, Skulduggery?"

"No. Worrying just gives me wrinkles."

There was a pause.

"That was awful, Skulduggery."

"Well, worry lines at my age _is_ a very real problem."

"But bones don't wrinkle."

"That's because I don't worry," he said with a soft chuckle, in which he felt a light slap on his knee.

"This is serious," Valkyrie groaned.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning forward onto his knees, tenting his fingers under the bone of chin to show her that she had his full and sombre attention. "Is there something keeping you awake dear Valkyrie?"

"I can't stop thinking about it," Valkyrie began, wringing her hands unintentionally. "But, what if that time came? What would you do then?"

The detective's head cocked to one side as he reached a hand to cup Valkyrie's fidgeting ones. "I supposed I would perish along with everyone else."

Valkyrie clenched her teeth. "Darquesse won't kill you. She said you deserve to live in a world of pain."

"Ah. Well, that's kind of her."

"It's just weird that she would do that." Valkyrie tried to study her mentor who had grown more still than he usually did, the dark of his eye sockets were rested on her until they raised slightly and he glared at something behind her.

Valkyrie stiffened. "What's wrong?"

Skulduggery lifted himself out of his chair and strode across the room to the mahogany doors placing his hat silently back onto his skull as he titled his head towards the wood. He listened intently as Valkyrie drew the covers up around her protectively.

"Skuldu-"

"Get dressed."

Valkyrie didn't need another word's notice. She whipped off the many layers of sheet and leapt smoothly to her feet. She summoned a small dense flame to her hand and begun scrying around for her clothes. She made a mental note that from now on she would fold them in an obvious place for situations like these.

After finding them scattered throughout the room, Valkyrie took of her gown and pulled on her own clothes. She heard the door moan quietly open.

"Hey!" She whispered after him. Skulduggery either couldn't hear or wasn't listening. Valkyrie knew it was the latter. Tutting to herself, she battled her foot to the bottom of her boots and tied them tight. Ready, she went after Skulduggery.

The halls of Wickerly Manor were, because it was night mostly, dark as Valkyrie made her way through them, listening out for anything that sounded out of place.

A shout and a flash of green which momentarily blinded her was hint enough. Something was wrong. Sprinting to the opposite end of hall Valkyrie saw that the double doors that lead to the library were both opened, revealing Skulduggery in Binding ropes of green, pulsating electricity. Without hesitation Valkyrie dashed forward over the threshold, just as Skulduggery shouted at her to stop.

Valkyrie felt her magic drain away. _Oops_. _Genius, Val, you dumb clutz!_ She scolded herself harshly.

There came a dark light from between the books, out of which stepped China Sorrows, her face narrowed in a frown of pity as she lifted something to the level of her face.

Valkyrie stepped backwards. "The _Sceptre_. How!?"

"When I heard about Darquesse destroying the world she seemed not that far placed form the Faceless Ones," China explained coldly, a hint of pain and regret in her voice as she targeted the young girl who was looking towards Skulduggery with frantic eyes. "So, I reasoned, what would destroy the Old Gods would most certainly destroy Darquesse. It was…difficult to repair, but," China threw a shot out towards Valkyrie, the black light narrowly missing her. "As you can see, I'm a perfectionist."

"I swear, China," Skulduggery spat, grunting against the binding, trying to flew his hands in the way he summoned fire. "If you _touch _her I will _kill you_."

Skulduggery's voice sent shivers down Valkyrie's spine.

China laughed. "I dare say you would, dear. But you _know_ this is for the best. You're all out of options and I quite like the world as it is now, thankyou."

Valkyrie turned to run, but China lazily flicked her hand; a sigil glowed, and the heavy wooden double doors closed with a thunderous bang.

"A shape-shifter!" Valkyrie blurted, her back against the only exit she knew off as China aligned that dark stone embedded in the sceptre at her head. "I was told a shape-shifter can help."

China's face saddened. "Valkyrie, dear, there are _no_ shape-shifters. Your beloved detective led you on so you wouldn't lose hope. And besides," the black stone glowed darker, firing up, "that's a bigger risk I'm not willing to take."

China fired. Skulduggery shouted something inaudible. And Valkyrie?

She understood why that one small rod could destroy a whole God.

* * *

**Oooh, China taking things into her hands. Doin' whats needs to be done. Next chapter called? Beyond the Gods! And if ya'll review you'll get it sooner hehehe.**

**Longest chapter yet :/**

**Hope you all enjoyed! See ya next chapter felociraptor!**

**-_- At some point I'm going to have to proof read better. **


	7. SIX: Beyond the Gods

**CHAPTER SIX: Beyond the Gods**

What was beyond death? Valkyrie had always wondered. She always told everyone she believed that there was a pretty garden, maybe some kind of heaven, and everyone everywhere was happy. Gordon would be up there, still writing his horror novels and somehow just as popular as had been when he was breathing on earth, based on the self-proclaimed fact that he was just_ that_ awesome. She once told Skulduggery that everyone she had liked in life would meet her in death, and that she wouldn't technically be alone.

He seemed content with that answer. It never occurred to him to pressure her anymore on the topic. Perhaps if he had he would've uncovered a darker truth.

In reality, Valkyrie didn't believe in life after death, or in any heaven. There was just a nothing. A nothing that stretched forever in all directions. Death was exactly as it said it was. Dead. It was like an eternal sleep with no dreams. A place of rest. Nothing else.

She now found herself in that place.

In darkness.

It was almost solid. Like it had a presence that pressed against her. It was vaguely comforting.

_I'm dead_, Valkyrie thought to herself, _I died before I could become Darquesse_.

She pondered for a moment, sifted through her emotions, not entirely sure how she felt about her latest predicament.

_Am I happy or sad about that?_

It was too complex a topic for Valkyrie's newly deceased brain to think about, so she meandered to another thought.

_Am I alone?_

She looked around.

_I wonder if I have eyes_.

Valkyrie tried to blink. It felt like she did. But it was so dark she couldn't tell, and the blinking feeling could be summed up as a phantom reaction.

_God_, she said after a minute of trying to move her eyes, _being dead is so, so boring!_

There suddenly came a faint light from far ahead and Valkyrie turned to it, intrigued. An overwhelming urge to approach it forced her to move her phantom legs and she stumble towards it like a moth drunk on light.

It was an orb.

Valkyrie walked around it carefully. It was perhaps the length of the Bentley except spherical, as orbs usually were.

Valkyrie sighed. _I bet if I touch it something will happen_.

She rested a hand near it, hesitated a moment before the allure of plunging her arm in took over.

The orb disappeared. Valkyrie had absorbed it faster than a dehydrated sponge in a tub.

It was then she felt her brain kick start. Her thoughts came in thick and fast.

_Oh, damn. _

She didn't want to die, she decided. Panic rising as the reality of her situation dawned.

Valkyrie felt her spinal column arch backwards, pulling her along with it, popping and cracking. Pain shot through to her head, making her dizzy although there was no way to say for sure.

Suddenly she could hear.

It was like emptying her ears after swimming in cold water. Sounds that had been muffled to the point of not existing rang clear throughout her mind.

It was Skulduggery shouting profanities.

There was a rage in his voice she had never heard before.

And a grief that seemed to break his vocal chords.

_Hang on_, Valkyrie called anxiously. _Skulduggery, hang on a moment!_

Her sight came back: blurry at first, but growing stronger with each passing second.

Valkyrie could see China still standing in front of her, the sceptre grasped loosely in her hands, her perfect mouth open in horror.

Valkyrie clenched her fists. Felt something peculiar about them and looked down. She had no body. Her legs were a mass of red and blue veins intertwining and overlapping.

She felt a heart beat start up.

And breath come into her lungs.

Bones begun to sprout from her spine, covered quickly by layers of muscle.

Between Valkyrie's clenched fists came the feeling and course texture of skin; she swallowed heavily, looking at China through her new eyes which as much hatred as she could muster. Her vocal chords tightened and readjusted, and she gave her most demonic, lopsided grin.

"Guess I'm back."

o(0+0)o

Ghastly placed a large hand on the slight, thin shoulder of Agog and the young man shadow-walked them silently to Crane's cell. Agog held a small oil lamp up for Ghastly who, with a soft click of his fingers lit the wick. The small flame sputtered into life and threw irregular shadows against the dark stone walls as the Elder unlocked the door with trepidation.

The cell reeked with the pungent smell of fear.

Agog recoiled slightly, the shadows jerked fiercely as though they wanted to escape the room. He fought to keep the lamp above his head, his hands trembled. He could almost hear the bones in his wrists rattle. Deep down he told himself to man up.

"Crane?" Ghastly whispered, as Agog's lamp threw light over the thin figure. He knelt and placed a hand on the thin of his forearm, shaking gently. "Crane, it's us. Agog and Ghastly."

Crane didn't move; his face remained embedded in the stone wall, facing away from the light. Ghastly reached forward and moved his chin around. Crane's head lolled onto his chest and he groaned something inaudible. There was a large split down the left side of his face. It was deep, he could spy the white of his skull, and fresh droplets of blood glistened like jewels although none poured out over his waxy skin.

Ghastly felt his insides churn as he studied the wound as best he could under the flickering light, pulling Crane's eyelids open. His pupils were large black gaps and the vessels of his eyes had popped, spilling blood out his eyes and over his cheeks.

"Crane?"

The man's mouth opened, showing a row of bloodied teeth. "Yes?" he whispered hoarsely.

Ghastly sighed in relief. "The medical-"

"The story," he wheezed, drawing in air loudly, causing Agog to pale more than he already was. "The story you told me to stick to…no matter what…"

"Don't force yourself," Ghastly said soothingly, but the man grabbed his arm tightly. His eyes managed to open a fraction wider.

"I can't…" he drew in more breath, struggling to get his words out coherently through his maimed mouth. "I can't remember it."

"Can't remember what?"

"I can't remember…what it was…you told me…to stick to."

"Do you remember the man on fire?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know why you're here, then?"

"No."

"What about Agog and I?"

"Yes. I told them..." another rattling lungful of air, "Nothing about you."

Ghastly sat back, his mouth had gone dry and he heard Agog swallow loudly behind him.

"They wiped his memory?" He said weakly, confused by what he was witnessing. "Why? Why would they interrogate him just to erase everything?"

Ghastly stood slowly, feeling light in the head. "The man on fire – the one who emitted the gas from his skin. The Supreme Sanctuary must know of him. Perhaps he's working for them. His power is too unique, easily spotted, and Crane is not mortal. He has presence here in the Sanctuary," he turned to Agog. "They only wanted him here to see what he knows and to erase it."

"But…but he told _us_ what happened."

"I know," he grimaced, rubbing his forehead. "And they don't know _we_ know."

"Who? The Supreme Council?" Agog gasped. "Why would they want to let magic be known? I thought that they were against it."

"It's just speculation, Agog," he murmured, "don't work yourself up over it." He looked at Crane. "Stay strong, friend, I'll have Doctor Nye attend to you immediately."

Crane opened his eyes wider as he watched the two men leave. "Wait!" He grunted. Ghastly stopped and looked around. "I want...to join you."

"You do, do you?"

"Yes. This Supreme Council, I'm guessing that...they're supposed to protect the peace, but now? Now they're destroying...it for their own greed. And from what I've seen of this world," he coughed heavily and spat. Dark blood hit the floor with a slick squelch. "This world of magic...is dark. I don't want...the world like this."

Ghastly listened to him and nodded. "Very well."

o(0+0)o

After informing Doctor Nye of an injured prisoner, Ghastly and Agog shadow-walked back to the Grand Mage's office where Ravel slept, his face on his work, a pen still twitching in his hand as he continued to sign away documents in his dream. Ghastly watched him, laughing inside despite himself.

His inner laughter died a painful death and he unconsciously felt for his cell phone amongst the embroidery of his robes. He pulled it out reluctantly and flipped it open. The screen was already opened to contacts and one name in particular was highlighted.

_Skulduggery P. 0134 576 895_

_Devilishly debonair detective_.

_ And you're all attracted to me._

Sometimes when Ghastly found himself almost missing his bony friend's presence he would make to call him, just to see what trouble he was dragging the young Valkyrie into, or just for a casual chat – man to man, as it were. Nothing wrong or weird with that. Until he flicked open his phone and read Skulduggery's egotistical comment about everyone loving him. He would then realise that he didn't really want to listen to the skeleton talk wonders about himself, and just like that, all urge to contact him would dissipate.

Tonight, however, that wasn't the case. And Ghastly found his finger hovering over the call button regardless how many times he read those last two annoying lines.

"It's been five months," he said aloud, mostly to himself, partly to Agog. "If he was here we would have had these murders solved by now, or close to."

Ravel snored loudly. He moved his shoulders and lifted his head off the desk, a piece of paper stuck to the side of his cheek by a pool of saliva. He looked around at the people in his room and smiled sleepily.

"Aw," he sighed, "you're all here!"

The piece of paper folded gently off his cheek on its own accord and flopped back onto the desk as Ravel rubbed his eyes. He yawned and noticed Ghastly had his phone out.

"Oh thank god you've come to your senses! Please call Skulduggery! Please tell him that he can have anything, _anything_, if he could come back here with his unorthodox methods and just _fix all this!_" He cried, almost hysterical.

Ghastly quickly put his cell back into the folds of his clothes. "We promised not to disturb them until they return."

To his shock Ravel started crying.

"Ghastly," he wailed, "_please_!"

"No, Ravel, you're-"

The man howled loudly and pounded his fists into his desk in a childish temper.

"Okay, okay, okay," Ghastly said, stepping backwards, startled by the man's outburst. "First thing in the morning, I promise."

Ravel slammed his forehead into the desk and sobbed quietly. "Th-thankyou."

Ghastly pinched the peak of his nose tiredly. "Agog, get his whining highness into bed."

Agog nodded and crossed the room to the Grand Mage and placed a soft hand on his shoulder gently. "Come on, sir," he said, "we'll get you to a nice bed and you can have a good, long sleep."

Ravel looked up at him, his eyes wide. "Really?"

"Really."

Shadows enveloped them and Ghastly was left alone.

o(0+0)o

China stumbled backwards as Valkyrie's flesh rippled one last time before settling back into shape. The young girl threw a hand out at Skulduggery and his binds pulsed brightly before fading into nothing. But even though he was free, Skulduggery failed to move with any great urgency to her side, and continued to gape at her – or, gape as much as a skull could. Valkyrie rounded onto him angrily.

"What I _want_ from _you_," she hissed, "is to bloody _look away_ and give me _your clothes!_"

Skulduggery sat up quickly and began to take off his suit, pulling it over his head so as to not spend any time trying to undo the buttons. Looking in the exact opposite direction he extended his arm out and gave her his jacket.

Valkyrie snatched it from his hand and quickly wriggled herself into it. It was long enough to be a modest length dress, and it hid everything except for the fact she was crimson red in the face.

Skulduggery got to his feet, still averting his gaze from meandering towards Valkyrie's general direction and instead, trained his eyes onto China, who dropped the sceptre with a dull thud on the carpeted floor.

"Valkyrie…you're-" China stuttered.

"Yeah, I'm naked," she said bitterly, glaring daggers at the beautiful woman who was clearly shaken by what she had witnessed. "Go on, laugh. Get it out of your system."

China didn't laugh; instead, she turned on her high heels and fled into the darkness of the shelves.

Skulduggery sprinted forward two steps before stopping and turned back to Valkyrie, all red in the face and fuming.

"Erm…" he said, cautiously, "my gun."

"What?"

"My gun. It's in the front pocket of my suit," he vaguely motioned to where it would be on her and hoped it didn't offend.

"Tch," Valkyrie jammed a hand inside the suit and Skulduggery looked away. "Here."

He felt the handle of his gun press into his hands and he cast his eyes cautiously back at her.

"Thanks," he said slowly.

There was a beat of awkwardness which Skulduggery forced aside to grab her and pull her strong, wiry frame into a tight hug.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ do something that stupid again!" He scolded, pressing his chin against the soft of her neck protectively.

"Yeah…ah…I'm _naked_, so I don't feel like hugging you back."

"Fair enough."

Valkyrie stood there for a moment longer in his clutches. "China's getting away."

Skulduggery let go of her with a curse and sprinted into the darkness and out of sight.

o(0+0)o

Skulduggery plunged down one row of shelves only to emerge briefly into a corridor, before charging down another. He wasn't picking his directions randomly. Far from it. A little thing called 'detective's intuition' kept him honing in on China Sorrows. Well, there was that, and the fact he could smell her perfume a mile away.

But he decided that it would be his logic, brains and devilishly good-looks that tracked her down when he'd tell Valkyrie the story later – give her a little something to aspire to.

Another dark corridor, the faint scent of lavender and petunia hung on the dark air undisturbed, until he ran past, pausing at every odd moment to listen for footsteps.

The vision of Valkyrie had seared itself into his mind. And with the darkness of the library so intense his brain decided on a whim to make the imagery even sharper. Never had his non-existing heart felt so completely shattered in those minutes that Valkyrie had stared at him, fear in her dark brown eyes, before erupting into smoke and sparks. And even though she had somehow made it back, managed to regenerate her whole body from a mere brain to flesh in minutes, he couldn't shake the feeling that Valkyrie Cain had just been annihilated in front of him.

And that he had done nothing to save her.

Skulduggery had inside him something he hadn't quite experienced in a long time.

A conflict of emotions.

On one hand, he was so angry at China Sorrows that the thought of her body littered about her manor appealed to his dark nature and boiled his spirit. Yet, on the _other_ hand, he wanted nothing more than to find Valkyrie and get the hell away from everything. The only thing that kept him on the hunt was the fact that China knew. Knew too much. And that was a problem which needed fixing.

o(0+0)o

It had taken some navigating but Valkyrie had found China's closet and was pulling out clothes by the armful in search for something she could throw on and aid Skulduggery in the taking out of China Sorrows. China, who had tried to kill her in cold blood. With the sceptre of all things.

She found a pair of dress pants, slightly too long in the legs, but Valkyrie didn't have the liberty to be picky as she stepped into them quickly, pulling them up around her waist. The size was disturbingly close as she pulled up a zip at her side, kicking her legs out to see how they felt.

It would do.

A soft click echoed in the room.

Valkyrie dodged sharply as the heat of a bullet shot past her cheek, burning her new skin. She rolled across the carpet, onto her knees, managed to get her feet underneath her as she lurched forward again, as the crack of another bullet grazed her right leg.

Valkyrie hissed, and crouched behind China's insanely high mattress.

"Valet?" She called. "Valet it's me, Valkyrie! I'm not a thief!"

Another crack. Another bullet went whistling over head. It was a warning.

"For god's sake, Valet will you stop! It's me!"

The welsh accent sounded deathly cold when he answered. "I know who it is. And I know who you _are_, Valkyrie Cain."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed, _Darquesse_."

"Look, I'm not Darquesse…_at the moment_, because if I was, believe me when I say you would not want to be pointing a gun at me!" Valkyrie waited for a reply but heard nothing, and so risked to peer over the side of the bed. She could see Valet's silhouette standing rigid at the door, not brave enough to enter the dark room. His head motioned to her general direction and he shot at her again.

"Seriously!" Valkyrie yelled at him, anger now spurring her in action as she rose from behind the bed. "Stop bloody shooting!" The darkness came to her as she flicked out her hands and she shadow-walked the short distance to him, her mind blind with anger, and with the injustice of it all.

It hadn't been _her_ _choice_ to be Darquesse. It wasn't _her_ _fault_ that people dreamed up stories where she would destroy the world. And it _wasn't fair_ that the people who had once been close to her suddenly wanted her _dead_.

Coldness enveloped the room and the shadows leaped as one mass of swirling black around her hand as she appeared before Valet, the man gave a startled cry, stepped backwards awkwardly, his gun raised, his finger pulling on the trigger.

Valkyrie grabbed his gun hand with her shadowed one and crunched the fragile bones to a pulp, the wrist flopped downwards like a wet biscuit, and the gun had been smashed into the remains of his hand so that it was some sort of metal and flesh abomination. She could smell the scent of fresh blood, as pungent as an oncoming storm.

Valet was screaming, his body shaking furiously as he pulled weakly against her.

"I told you," Valkyrie growled, "to not point that gun at me."

The valet whimpered, his eyes bulging out from his skull, the white of them shinning bright in the darkness. There was a hint of defiance still left in the colour of his eyes. And Valkyrie found that she despised it.

"You…you will be stopped," he gasped, blood had started to trickle from his left nostril and into his moustache. "Someone will rise up…and…and kill you."

"You sure? Not even the weapon that can destroy the Gods can kill me." Valkyrie reached forward with an open palm and pressed a finger to the man's forehead. Her finger slowly cut a hole and made its way inwards, blood dripped down his face, his body had stopped shaking. The man stilled.

Valkyrie pulled out her finger and Valet Chambers crumbled to the floor, his eyes still staring as a halo of blood pooled around his head and into the carpet. Valkyrie watched the warmth drain from him.

Outside the sky became lighter and a shard of the morning sun shot through a window and across the dead man's face.

"Oh god, no," Valkyrie stepped backwards, into the bedroom, her legs started to shake uncontrollably. "Oh my god, _no_."

She had just killed a man.

Killed him in cold, cold blood.

Valkyrie walked backwards until the bed bumped her in the back of the knees and she sunk into it.

Without meaning to, she started to scream.

* * *

**LONGEST CHAPTER EVER! Coming in at 3342 words. Dammit, I'm going to find SO many errors in it tomorrow but I'm so excited I want to post this now! So I am :)**

**At the moment, from the layout I've planned for this story, I have written a total of 24 000 words :/ And that's...that's not even half way. It sucks because I've written whole chapters, except they're for later on! D: And im dying to get there! Haha. **

**Next Chapter: Breaking like China**

**God bless cliche titles ;D**

**If you're enjoying this story thus far please review :) You guys are made of the stuff that created awesome.**


	8. SEVEN: Breaking like China

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Breaking like China**

China's fragile silhouette stood at the end of the room, poised like a cornered cobra. Her arms were rigid and slightly raised at her sides, her knees bent beneath her slight frame. Those stark blue eyes of hers seemed to shed a silvery light of their own as they wearily followed the skeleton across the room, flicking at moments to the doors at either end of the halls, and then back at him. Skulduggery traced her gaze, noted her three potential escape routes and planted himself strategically in the centre, leaning ever so slightly to her right – her strongest side.

He raised his gun and focused its line of sight to the gap between her shining eyes. "One move, China, and I shoot you," he explained evenly, pulling the hammer back with a click.

The sound was sharp against the soft grey light filtering through the many windows that lined the hallway. Small flecks of dust caught the light and glowed briefly before dancing away, frightened by the tension building between the two.

China heeded his words, but refused to answer. Skulduggery relaxed into his stance, anchoring his feet. "You said something about the shape-shifter, it being a risk you wouldn't take. What do you know?"

The morning sun lightened and slowly filled the silence. He saw her eyes dart to the door some way behind him. Skulduggery growled and took a step forward threateningly. "I don't have all day, China. My time is precious."

China's blood red lips opened as her perfect face morphed into anger. "Skulduggery," she snapped, "you're emotions are getting in the way of your judgement!"

"_What_," Skulduggery repeated slowly, taking another step – his heel cracking ominously against the tiled floor, "_do_ _you_ _know_." It was more an order than a question.

"Will you kill me?" She asked, anger in her cool voice. Her eyes flashed viciously.

"I'm making no promises, China."

"So, you'll kill me to keep Darquesse secret?"

"I have pulled the trigger for less, as you well know. Now, the shape-shifter? And I'll think about letting you live."

China's nostrils flared and answered bitterly. "Abigail Gaffer, the banshee, was the last to see _it_, almost a hundred years ago, in Cork. If you're insane enough to look for it, then start your fool-search there. But, then again," she sneered, her eyes looking him up and down in contempt, "if you're willing to sacrifice this world for your own selfish reasons, I daresay there's not much sanity left in you, Skulduggery Pleasant."

Skulduggery lowered his gun slightly, and dipped his head in a way that showed her words didn't affect him. "Then you're the fool for thinking I had any sanity in the first place."

The sun broke from behind the horizon and cast a shard of light across her fair and beautiful face. China blinked back the golden light as an ear splitting scream pierced the morning. Skulduggery raised his head over the line of his gun towards the sound.

China took the momentary distraction and touched her fingers to her arms, releasing a wall of blue energy, which slammed into the skeleton and sent him flying backwards into the door behind him. She turned, covered her face with her arms, and ran through a window just as Skulduggery rolled to his knees, his gun exploding in burst of light as he shot several bullets in her direction.

Glass rained down on the tiles, glinting angrily. Skulduggery jumped to his feet, reloading his gun as he ran to the window and looked at the emerald grounds a story below him, his gun cocked. He lined up the woman in his sights as she ran towards the maze, barrier sigils bursting light from under her feet as she passed behind a line of trees.

Skulduggery waited for China Sorrows to break from her cover, scanning the beautiful grounds. She made no appearance and he lowered the gun to his side.

The screaming had stopped.

Skulduggery tilted his head to where he heard the sound and went swiftly in that direction.

o(0+0)o

Skulduggery saw the corpse lying bloodied in a doorway. Its blood was still pooling and spilling over the soft carpet as he approached it carefully. It was Valet, the valet – he wondered for a moment what stable person chose their occupation as their name. He shook away the thought and studied him closer, bending over him slightly: there was a bullet-shot like wound in his forehead, and something atrocious had happened to his right hand. Upon closer inspection, he realised that it was the remains of a small gun. What used to be Valet's eyes had a milky sheen forming over them as the body cooled, entering the first stages of rigor mortis.

"Skulduggery."

The detective didn't expect to hear a voice and glanced into the room and towards the sound. He saw Valkyrie seated on the edge of a bed – China's, judging by the immaculate embroidery. She was wrapped to the chin in blankets. Her hair fell around her in a dark waterfall, and her eyes were red and puffy.

Skulduggery strode across the room. "Valkyrie, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"I killed him," she said quietly.

He stopped.

"I wasn't even Darquesse, and _I_ killed him."

Skulduggery was quiet as he took a seat by her. He reached over and peeled the sheets back. "Look at you," he muttered softly, "You're like a banana."

He titled his head to one side as he pushed the doonas behind them, out of the way, and grabbed her hands. He noted the bloodied one in particular and opened it. Inspecting it. His empty eyes fell on the bullet wound at her calf muscle.

"Did he shoot you?"

"Yes. But it doesn't justify the fact that I killed him."

Skulduggery thumbed her palms, rotating them in the soft skin along her life lines. "Well, he _shot_ at you, and you were forced to defend your life. The outcome is, rather unfortunate, for dear old Valet." He paused. "But I can't say he had grand prospects for himself. Unless he wanted to change him name. I didn't know him well, but still, I didn't imagine it happening."

"Skulduggery," Valkyrie cast her dark eyes up at him slowly, tears brimming at the very edges. "Skulduggery, I _can't_ die. Even if he did shoot me I would've healed and stood back up again."

"Yes, well, I wouldn't count on your regeneration power to save you in every circumstance," he said sternly. He stood, pulling Valkyrie up to her feet, still holding her hands.

Valkyrie felt weak in her ankles and in her stomach. "You can't just make this sound all okay. Because it's not."

"I know."

"I just killed a man." The tears had started to build up against the dark pools of her irises.

"Valkyrie, _Valkyrie_." Skulduggery knelt to his knees; he pressed her hands to the bones of his chest, not caring that her bloodied hands were staining his white shirt. He studied her broken face.

Valkyrie wiped her eyes on the high shoulders of his suit before the tears could spill and looked down at him.

"This was my fault," Skulduggery said firmly, his voice deep and solemn, soft yet stern. "I should've been here for you, but I wasn't. So don't blame yourself for _anything_. You had the rights to protect yourself, Valkyrie. And don't think for a moment that just because you're Darquesse that your life is any less valuable or not worth fighting for. Okay?" He let go of her hands gently so she could wipe away the hair that was sticking to her face, and flick a straying tear off her pale cheek.

Valkyrie gave a weak smile. "You're kneeling."

"I kneel when I'm serious."

"You've never knelt before."

Skulduggery shoulders tightened under the white of his dress shirt. "I have never been this serious before." He rose to his feet, dusting his knees off from whatever he may have picked up from the immaculately well kept carpet.

"You let China go."

"I did."

"Will people want to kill me now?" Valkyrie asked as Skulduggery turned his head to look at the body lying cold in the doorway.

"Perhaps," he murmured. "We'll see."

o(0+0)o

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?" Ravel asked groggily, running a hand along the side of his face, before massaging life into his hair. He peeled his head from the comfort of his pillow and sat up arthritically slow. He slipped a hand between the folds of his pyjamas and scratched his stomach, listening to the grouchy voice on the other end of his phone.

"No," he groaned sleepily, "I don't want to _know_ what it is, Ghastly, just give me a number."

Ravel shifted his legs out from under the heavy, silk-covered duvet and hung them over the edge of his bed as his feet searched and sorted out their designated slippers.

"I don't know," he stifled a yawn, biting on his balled fist as tears pricked his eyes. "Ten is like, End of the World; one is probably Tipstaff losing a pencil."

He sighed.

"Of course they're relatable scenarios. You clearly haven't seen Tipstaff without a pencil. It may as well _be_ the End of the World."

Ravel slipped his feet slowly into the comfort of his favourite grey slippers. "Of course I'm taking you seriously," he said. "I'm putting my slippers on, _right now_."

He wriggled his toes deep into the fleecy warmth and stretched, the bones of his body clunking together contently. He stopped abruptly.

"Only a _nine_?"

Ravel started taking his feet out of his slippers and pulling his legs back under the blessed duvet.

"No, no, I still have my slippers on," he lied, easing himself back against his pillow. "I'm getting up."

With a tremendous crash the double doors to his chambers opened, the force making them rebound from the stonewalls, the doors hitting Ghastly in his open palms as he stormed in.

Ravel looked at him with wide eyes, pulling the doona under his chin.

Ghastly glowered down at him. "Getting up were we?"

"Uhmm…"

"New rules," he said sternly, a frown creasing his scarred face darkly. "Ten, is End of the World; Nine is War."

* * *

**BAH-FREAKING-DUM!**

**From the longest chapter to the shortest, I'm like an extreamist, or something.**

**On a serious note guys, thankyou thankyou thankyou for all your support! I love reading your comments and your reviews, no matter what you crazy peeps out there got to say. Say it! **

**About this chapter. I intended it to be a lot more heavier with Val killing poor Valet but I wanted to get the hell out of China's freaky pretentious manor. Seriously China, what the hell, you disappear into a large house and think no-one can find you? Stewpid. Ugh, I had to force myself to write this chapter -_- was so tedious. Except the end, ;D that was fun.**

29, 000 words in :D and have a finished ending. Dei-yum.


	9. EIGHT: Nine for War

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Nine for War**

Despite the fact it was early in the morning, the streets of Roarhaven were filled with mages. They didn't stand still, or meander about, but walked from place to place with purpose, heads usually buried in papers that they struggled to balance as they hurried about. Agog nodded to a few he knew as he passed them, walking briskly towards the Sanctuary entrance; they nodded in return, but their faces were hard. The tension in Roarhaven could be cut with a blunt and rusty knife. If they were a scared lot of people they didn't show it. Instead, they had offered themselves up to the service of the Sanctuary, for the good of their existence, and their survival.

A few people frowned at him as he reached the door, noting the necromancy robes he had draped over him, a dramatic change from the usual rock-goth-punk style he paraded about. He ignored the blatant glares of distrust thrown his way. Not everyone knew he was a Necromancer, but Ghastly had sent him on a mission to ask for assistance from The Temple, so he had loyally donned his Temple garlands and went. He had stood, for the first time, before the High Priest Nathaniel Quiver, a very powerful, very quiet, very contemplative man.

The High Priest Quiver had listened to him, nodding ever so slightly from his perch on the highest and most uncomfortable seat The Temple had to offer. To his sides were Cleric Solomon Wreath and Cleric Sabre Kiloton. Agog had never the privilege to meet any of them before now.

"War?" Cleric Wreath repeated slowly, his face darkened, if possible, at the word. "There have been rumours, about a magical community stirring, demanding some kind of existence where they rule over the mortals. But," he looked down at Agog, "why does Elder Bespoke come to _us_? The Temple doesn't dwell much in the affairs of the surface above, as you well know, Bloodwell. And why send _you_? The most unexceptional student to ever reside here."

Agog had bit his cheek and said nothing, but held the withering stare he earned from the Cleric. If it was one thing Necromancers were especially astute at, it was withering stares. As per Ghastly's instructions he outlined the situation, the men listened closely. At least they had the decency to be polite.

"We will," said the High Priest, earning a startled flick of the head as he spoke from Agog. It made him smile. A smile!

Agog had been booted from The Temple for smiling too much.

"Consider, Ghastly's request," he finished softly, and finished smiling, his face turning back to a razor sharp impassiveness. "Cleric Wreath, you know Ghastly well enough. Go to him. See what this war means for us."

Which led them to this moment, Agog leading Cleric Solomon Wreath into the Sanctuary, ducking under the looks cast their way, and wanting to take the sin black cloak off from around his shoulders - the silver clasp under his neck, a cross with another over it, seemed to strangle him. Cleric Wreath had no such garments. His suit was velvet black and laced with pale grey cuffs, perfectly made to accentuate his lithe build. His cane clacked rhythmically as they ventured deeper into the belly of the Sanctuary.

The vast hallways were full. The sound of whispers and shuffling steps filled the corridors like leaves in the whistling autumn wind. If it weren't for the damp smell, Agog could imagine being outside.

"So," said Solomon, his voice was as all Necromancers' were, husky from disuse, and deep from always thinking solemn thoughts. "Agog Bloodwell, what is it that you do here?"

"I'm assistant to Elder Ghastly Bespoke," he replied.

"And why did you leave The Temple? Were you not fond of our ways?"

"No, not at all. I was born and raised in Necromancy. I just," he side-stepped a man who came running around a corner towards him, sweat dripped from his face as the gentleman narrowly avoided a collision with Agog's thin frame. The man swung wildly around into a spin, clutching several books to his chest, ran backwards for a few seconds staring wide eyed at the Necromancers before momentum turned him back around and he continued running onward.

Both Wreath and Agog had stopped in mild surprise.

"You were saying?" The Cleric urged Agog forward with a slight hand on the shoulders.

"I didn't fit in. And Father Fatelee said I was amounting to nothing," he continued to lead the suited man to quieter halls.

"Have you experienced the Surge, yet?"

"No, sir. I'm only nineteen."

"Hmm…"

A door opened up ahead and the bulk of Ghastly's figure emerged slightly behind the wood and glanced up one end of the hall and back down the other. His eyes spotted the two approaching them and he gestured a hand for them to walk faster. They did so, and joined him in the cramped confines of the storage closet, the naked bulb overhead flickered pathetically, swinging sadly from its wire.

Wreath felt his hands taken in a warm shake by Ghastly.

Wreath pulled them out from the clasp and looked around the mouldy room, the corner of his nose wrinkled. "I'm not used to such a warm greeting," he said, turning his gaze slowly to the Elder. "Especially from your kind of people."

"Yes, well, I still have my opinions about you, Solomon," Ghastly explained evenly, "but serious events have come to light, and for the moment I am forced to over look the fact that you tried to make Valkyrie your Christ figure."

The two men glared levelly with each other.

"A storage closet?" Said Wreath after the silence grew to become a battle of wills. "I thought moss infected rooms were the décor of a Necromancer."

Ghastly frowned, but chose to ignore him. "Agog, The Room."

Agog nodded and raised his forearm for Wreath to place a hand upon. He did so, with a slightly raised dark brow.

From the dark, greasy floor, shadows burst forth into flames, causing their clothing to flap objectively as the room around them darkened. The air changed, wasn't so stuffy or warm. Instead, it was cool, pleasant, and the three men found themselves standing in the new morning sun on a green field. The sky was clear, with only a few clouds spoiling the blue.

Ghastly stepped forward, his eyes squinted against the light as he scanned for something against the tree-lined horizon. He turned to Agog and pointed his wrist. "The time, please?"

"Ten-past-eleven," he said, glancing at his digital watch, he felt the grip of Wreath's gnarly hand still on his forearm and tried to politely shake him off. The Cleric remained latched.

"How far did we just come?" He asked, eyes looking about him as if expecting the Sanctuary to be somewhere close by.

Ghastly raised a hand to his forehead, blocking the sun. "We seem to be early," he muttered. He noticed the curious look in Wreath's dark eyes. "Agog isn't going to be your precious Death Bringer just because he is able to shadow-walk great lengths."

Wreath grinned at Agog, who seemed to shy away from him, pulling back his arm as the Cleric reluctantly let go. "So promising," he said quietly, intrigued. "So, how far?" He asked again.

"A mile, maybe a little more."

"And you feel…?"

"Drained. But I'll be okay in half an hour."

"Solomon," Ghastly growled warningly.

Wreath straightened his suit and gave the young man a nod, impressed, and left it at that.

A soft _whump_ came from behind Ghastly and he turned casually as Fletcher Renn and Dexter Vex appeared several metres away, and began to make their way towards the small group, crunching the green grass under their heavy, combat boots. They looked drained, disheartened, and wet. Wherever they had come from must have been raining and very muddy. Fletcher's hair was but a shadow of its former, impeccably tall glory, and lay flat against his forehead, exhausted.

Dexter Vex's usually handsome rugged face was drawn tight, his mouth a straight line, his eyes heavy. He wiped water from the overhang of his forehead and rubbed his deep set eyes. He stopped in front of Ghastly and they grabbed each other's forearms in silent greeting – Vex looked over the boxer's broad shoulders and nodded a greeting to Wreath, who responded likewise.

Vex let go. "And before you ask, no, it wasn't raining."

"We went for a swim. Well, not on our own accord," Fletcher explained dryly, peeling his trench coat off his body, "Some fanatic with Elemental powers decided to raise the ocean and sweep us out to sea."

"Which is grand," continued Vex, taking his sopping gloves off and wringing them out, "Except for the fact that, you know, genius here can't teleport while in water."

Fletcher mumbled a disgruntled apology under his breath and copied Vex in twisting the water from his clothes.

Vex shrugged. "It was just inconvenient to find out right at that moment."

Ghastly watched them quietly and raised his palms. The sea water poured off from them in a giant stream. The two looked up, shattered.

"I forgot you could do that," Vex muttered, and put his gloves back on.

"As much as I enjoy you two prattling about your get-away," said Ghastly, his voice deepening seriously. "This war, how bad is it?"

A cloud passed over the sun and cast the field into shades of blue and purple. The two looked at each other, neither wanting to be the one to speak first.

Vex undertook the task, his face a mask of sincere sadness. "Glasgow is gone. Quite literally _flattened_ – I swear you could see all the way to Edinburgh. We went to see the Sanctuary there but we didn't find anyone, or _anything_ for that matter."

Fletcher lowered his head. "It was awful," he whispered.

"And what about here? Belfast?" Ghastly pressed.

"Occupied," Vex said. "Most of the mortals are in camps. The sorcerers there, from what we gathered, retaliated and most were killed last night."

"We tried to get to them, but..." Fletcher raised a hand to his face and pressed his eyes in with his fingers, squeezing out the memory.

Vex placed a strong hand on his shoulder and said nothing.

Ghastly nodded. "I am sure you tried what you could, Fletcher. I won't ask anymore of you until your rested. You have done a great service, thankyou."

Wreath frowned as the cloud passed and the small gathering was once again standing in sunlight. "So this war is very much real."

"It would seem so," growled Ghastly.

Agog glanced at his watch. "It's twelve o'clock."

On cue, a building began to appear, growing and sprouting from the ground. Doors appeared with small pops and windows blossomed out from walls. Deep red shingles tiled the roof with a sound similar to falling dominoes. A sign burst from the grass in front of them with a soft _pop_.

It was the Midnight Hotel.

o(0+0)o

"The rules," Anton Shudder said, his voice soft and hollow as he calmly went about the room, drawing up chairs for the people who had come, answering Ghastly's call for aid in these uncertain times.

"Are quite simple," Shudder drew up the last chair in which sat Frightening Jones, glaring distrustfully at Solomon Wreath who had taken a seat cross from him. "There will be no violence against others. Or I shall forcibly remove the disturbances."

He waited for the scraping of wood on wood to stop as everyone adjusted their chairs for the optimum position around the circle.

"Also," he allowed his auburn eyes to glide gently over the occupants, "This hotel is neutral. I am neither for, nor against what you have to say. But, I was approached by Ghastly who wished to hold a secret gathering, here, in The Room."

Anton motioned to the empty room in which everyone sat. Nothing lined the walls and nothing but the people already seated occupied it.

"The Room is special," he explained. "It keeps secrets." He sat down, and left everyone hanging on that note.

There was a silence; eyes darting from one set of eyes, to another set, catching some eyes out before flicking awkwardly to others. It was a strange game.

"Well," said Ravel suddenly, all eyes snapping to him. "This is an awkward seating arrangement. I feel like we're in an AA meeting and we should start by introducing ourselves, or something," he laughed.

No one made any inclination that they would join him in his little joke. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Um, well, I'm sure we all know who we are."

"I want to _know_ why there are _Necromancers_ here," Frightening Jones' voiced boomed, as he raised a dark, pointed finger at Solomon Wreath, who replied by glaring sinisterly at him. Agog shrank into his seat, trying to disappear behind the absolute nothing in the room.

"Solomon Wreath is a powerful ally," said Ghastly. "He is Cleric of the Necromancy Temple and his influence may be needed in the days to come. We don't have the luxury of casting aside potential friendships."

Frightening Jones leaned back into his chair which groaned under his impressive bulk. "The information I have is sensitive. And I don't trust people who seek out death."

"Death is a truth," snapped Wreath. "Therefore it is the truth which our order seeks!"

"Don't preach your beliefs to me, _Cleric,"_ Frightening warned darkly, his voice as course as gravel. "I know what they are. You and your sardonic brethren are always looking for that Death Bringer of yours."

Wreath went a handsome shade of furious-scarlet at the neck; he bared his teeth and fought to say nothing.

"Ah…yes…well, I'm glad we cleared _that_ out of the way," Ravel said cautiously. "On to more serious things, though." He lowered his head. "I'm afraid I gathered you all here today to tell you we are at war."

Everyone had already known the reason, and continued to sit quietly, listening.

"Seems like we're all aware of that? Good, good," he nodded. "I'd like to say that it came upon us suddenly, but that isn't the case. Over the last year we've had sorcerers rebelling against the order of things, wanting power, wanting to rule over mortals and the world in general. And just…just do a lot of really bad mean stuff to everyone." He cast his eyes around at everyone, eyebrows furrowed in seriousness.

"I've been told that our brother Sanctuary in Scotland, Glasgow, is destroyed. Decimated. I will be teleporting Sensitives over there immediately. We will look for survivors, but we won't have high hopes.

"We also cannot look towards the British Sanctuary for aid. Jones has informed me that the people we are fighting against have infiltrated the order and established a chain of command from there."

Anton raised a hand. Ravel inclined his head. "Have we got any idea _who's_ behind this?"

"We do, actually," said Ghastly, he opened a palm out towards the man with the legs stretched out in front of him, reaching the centre of the room with ease before casually crossing ankle over ankle. "This is Crane, he saved Senior Frederick Crumbly from being murdered several nights ago. He was interrogated by members of the Supreme Sanctuary and had the memory of the whole ordeal wiped."

All heads turned to the enigmatic character slouched casually in his seat. He blinked his eyes slowly and acknowledged everyone kindly.

"If Agog and I hadn't spoken with him prior we would never have known who the man behind the attack was. Frightening, if you wouldn't mind?"

Frightening Jones glared his last piercing glare at Wreath, possibly summing up the odds of him lasering the man and getting away with it. Shudder shifted in his seat, rather loudly, and Frightening banished the thought.

"I used to work under the man that Crane encountered the other night. His name is Stinton Sterrange and he was the personal assistant to Quinton Strom before his untimely demise," the large African seemed saddened for a moment but shook the emotions off. "After Strom's death he took charge, although he didn't actually _do_ anything. At the time we had sorcerers performing magic in public, as well as the murders of mortal-to-magic correspondents, which I'm sure everyone's heard of.

"With our correspondents dying we fell behind on the damage control being brought about this _rebellion_. And it's been a steep downfall since then. To make it worse the American Sanctuary is influencing the uprising. Sterrange's right hand man is Heller Decay, an American from Arizona.

"Several weeks ago I attempted to overthrow Sterrange and reclaim control of the British Sanctuary. I went in with a group of seven of the finest sorcerers, all of them perished at the hands of Decay. I made it back alive because a dear friend of mine sacrificed himself for me. So I escaped. So many lives were lost and it would've been a waste if we had not discovered their motive." He paused.

"Stinton Sterrange is a magical zealot. He wants only those of pure magic to rule, everyone else is to be enslaved, or killed. He wants Ireland for two things. The artifacts that will make our magic stronger, and Darquesse. Sterrange believes he has found a way to entice her to join his cause. She will be his trump card. If she fails to take his side, he will destroy her. How? I have no idea."

He looked at the group solemnly. "I am a fighter, true, but I am not one for war. But these Sanctuaries have already declared themselves hostile to our way of life. London is overrun, Glasgow is destroyed, Belfast is occupied, Darquesse is on the rise. If we don't retaliate now then we risk being destroyed."

"Not to mention the mortals will all be killed," Fletcher added amidst of a murmur of agreement.

Ravel sat forward in his seat. His eyes dark, he tented his fingers beneath his chin. "I've called all you here today because I value your judgement and your decision. While we don't have every detail, but we do have the obvious. The American and British Sanctuaries aim to destroy us like they have Glasgow. We can flee, and let them take this ancient land to do what they will with it, let Darquesse rise up and destroy us, or we can fight, and let the world spin another day."

Dexter Vex stood up, his chair falling behind him. "I will fight. I won't let Glasgow happen here. Not while I'm alive."

"Me too," said Fletcher. "Those jerks have another thing coming for what they did."

The Crane stood, his head brushing the ceiling and he stooped slightly to compensate. "I offer my skills."

Agog raised himself to his legs. "I may not be a strong fighter, but I'm smart, and I don't want all the mortals to die."

Wreath sighed inwardly and stood beside the young Necromancer. "I'm just standing because I refuse to be outdone by a child."

"And I promise to put all my energies into this war until the day of peace," said Ghastly solemnly.

Anton Shudder rose slowly out of his seat. "I said I would be impartial," he said, almost whispering, "but your bravery is infectious. I will offer my strength."

Frightening Jones grinned. "Then that'll be all of us then, your eminence," he laughed a booming laugh, although no one joined in except Ravel.

"All nine," the Grand Mage said, jumping to his feet with vigor, his eyes sharp and full of light. "Nine for war. Nine makes a Fellowship!"

Several people chuckled.

* * *

**I. AM. SO. EXCITED!**

**Be sure that s#*t is going down soon!**

**:D I have brought all my fav characters into one scene! xD CUZ I CAN! YEAH!**

**:C If only Tanith didn't have that bloody remnant in her :'(**

**And yes, Lord of the Rings reference. Couldn't help it. Ravel couldn't help it either. It has a romantic notion about it that I think Ravel can relate to ;)**

**ALL YOUR REVIEWS ARE EPIC!**

**Next chapter features the evil villain overlooking his destruction in the Ninth Chapter: GLASGOW**


	10. NINE: Glasgow

**CHAPTER NINE: Glasgow**

Stinton Sterrange wasn't a bad man. He really wasn't. He was just sick to death of being a minority, sick of mortals overpowering him because they were too stupid to realise that he could, quite literally, burn them alive. He was tired of hiding, and he was tired of following rules.

Stinton Sterrange was absolutely fed up of being oppressed. Because that's what it was: _oppression_. Mortals were sticking it to him, constantly, and they could get away with it because they were just so, _so_, pathetic. Well, not any more.

Oh, he initially didn't want there to be a war. He came into this world a good, honourable man, fighting the good fight; democratic to the teeth too. He had spent the last thirty years of his life slowly working his way up the British Sanctuary, voicing his opinions politically against the unfairness between mortals and sorcerers. He despised the fact that if a mortal murdered a sorcerer then they got away scott-free. Even if they were caught their justice system only gave them twenty-five years in prison. And that was ironically considered a 'life sentence'. If it were the other way around a sorcerer would be jailed for no less than two hundred.

The unfairness didn't end there, but it was one of the countless issues he brought forth during the many numerous meetings he attended, fighting tirelessly for sorcerers' rights. Each and every one of them, however, met with the same, ancient and crumbling wall:

_Magic is to stay secret from mortals_.

That's what _they_ always said, Quintus Strom and the other Elders, old men who always looked down their noses at him, as if the obvious was gospel.

_Don't disturb the order of things._

And they would say this calmly despite the fact that the mortals were always in conflict with each other. Hell, their warring ways had destroyed more magical communities than they had. Each time they had to pack up, leave, and never ever retaliate in fear of revealing magic, and being imprisoned for doing so.

After a while Sterrange knew how the world would work out for the best. It was horribly simple. _Sorcerers_ would rule. Just as they had in the time of The Ancients, when humans lived in an effete fear of being discovered and those with magic could go about their daily lives unhindered. It was then he begun to research The Ancients with religious fervent. They were strong, powerful, and above all, righteous.

Then he discovered that bloodlines from their people still existed in the world, and that those sorcerers contained a magic that far excelled even the most powerful and skilful conjurer. They were beings that _exulted_ magic.

That night he packed his bags and began the lengthy search for the very Last of the Ancients.

His search had led him across the continent, then on a boat headed to America. There he voiced his opinion and beliefs to the Sanctuary in Arizona, and to his amazement, they agreed with him wholly and wanted in. They wanted to overrun the mundane mortal existence and lead the world themselves.

It was there that he met Heller Decay, who also knew of The Ancients. He wanted life to be as it was in their time, and claimed to already know the whereabouts of one living descendant of the Last of the Ancients. Her name was _Darquesse_. The World Destroyer.

At first Stinton Sterrange had wanted this Darquesse character to perish. If sorcerers were to rule then there had to be a world. It was then, that Decay presented him with The Staff of Eurus, an artefact that had been excavated from the oceans near Ireland. It had been a weapon used against The Ancients at the time of their demise.

It was made to deal with those of heightened magical prowess.

_But why waste such power?_ Sterrange thought to himself one fine day. _Why not have her join the cause? She is after all, descended from The Ancients. _

Aided by a variety of sensitives Sterrange and Decay managed to narrow her location to Ireland, killing any mortal-to-magic correspondents, or any sorcerer who quelled the knowledge of magic from spreading, on their search.

Sterrange knew where the war had to take place.

Ireland – one of the cradle's of magic.

There he would not only locate and find Darquesse, but also harness the raw power that embedded the land. Plus, the magical societies looked to Ireland, and if it were to collapse, the rest of the world would fold in on itself. All opposition would perish.

Armed with American Cleavers and mages of all disciplines he led a coup on the British Sanctuary, overtaking it with ease. Then he took control, set up base of communications and continued his glorious killing spree.

And now Glasgow.

Ah, yes. Glasgow.

Already Stinton Sterrange was forgetting what it looked like. Was forgetting the amount of scum-ridden mortals that had crawled about, unaware of the atmosphere growing more and more dense around them.

Sterrange didn't need an army to destroy whole towns. He just needed Decay.

Heller Decay was partly descended from The Ancients himself. Not enough to be powerful, like the World Destroyer, but stronger than average. He was a particularly skilled Adept, and specialised in compressing the atmosphere. Glasgow had been his trial, his project. He wanted to see if he could do it, _wipe_ out an entire town. Bring it down to nothing but rubble. The Staff of Eurus had helped him channel is magic, condense it, absorb it. It sucked the very essence from the air and channelled it through him, making him brim to the eyes with energy.

The next moment, Glasgow collapsed in on itself.

The sound had been unlike anything Sterrange had ever heard. Nothing else could describe it, it was the sound of a million branches breaking. Wood, brick, tar, trees, people, all flattened to the ground in a single second.

Sterrange studied the rubble, unable to identify anything with any accuracy. There were some bloody scorch-marks on what remained of a road. Some poor soul had stood there. Alive one moment, dead the next. Not even a trace of his body remained, no bones or organs, nothing except the gooey stain.

He should have been pleased, his plans were proceeding nicely; he had successfully invaded Ireland and occupied Belfast, working his way southward to Dublin – and Darquesse? Well, it was only a matter of time before he found her.

But Sterrange wasn't happy. He studied the flattened horizon with a sneer and then raised the newspaper to his level of sight.

_Storm of the century rips through Glasgow_, it said in bold, mocking, san-seriff letters.

He growled lowly to himself and screwed the paper up violently, throwing it fiercely out over the destruction – the quickly wind picked it up and sent it flying away behind him. He watched it go bitterly.

"Geoffry Scrutinous," said Decay, standing as stoic as a statue beside him, observing his handiwork. He looked worn and exhausted, but pleased, although a frown creased his heavy features. "He'd be the one keepin' the lip on'all this." His American accent was thick but smooth.

"We need to take care of him, now that we're in Ireland," Sterrange said quietly. His husky voice barely making it over the wind that howled across the vast space.

"Would ya like me to, _take care of him_?" Decay asked, looking at him from the corners of his remarkably grey eyes.

Starrange nodded. "Immediately. If not, sooner."

Decay inclined his head; the sound of gravel crunching echoed around as he turned on his heel and marched off.

Sterrange looked to the sky. The brown, dust filled sky that reflected the chaos around him perfectly. "Soon, Darquess," he said, a grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "Very, _very _soon."

The staff in his hand hummed eagerly.

o(0+0)o

Ghastly was never one to think about things he didn't have. It seemed pointless to pine for luxuries which would remain infinitely beyond his reach. But as Ravel ran another hand through his luxuriously brown hair, he couldn't help but wish that he _also _had hair, just to have the ability to show everyone how exasperated he was by a single gesture – by running his hand through some hair.

To his right, he saw Agog leaning over his knees, combing his own pale fingers roughly through his dark brown locks.

Wreath seemed to slick his own back idly.

Even Fletcher was busy standing his drying do up.

Ghastly sighed irritably and turned his focus back to the matter at hand. "It would seem the best strategy is to aid the sorcerers in Belfast, and locate Darquesse before Stinton Sterrange can get his hands on her."

"I don't trust those Roarhaven mages enough," Frightening Jones said gruffly, his arms were folded tight across his broad chest. "They're a bunch of backstabbing spider lovers."

"That's kind of why we're having the meeting _here_," said Ravel tiredly. "Oh, they all seemed keen about this war, but I get the feeling that they're excited for all the wrong reasons."

Ghastly rubbed his chin and got to his feet. "It would seem that Skulduggery and Valkyrie need to be called in. I'll have them locate this World Destroyer. If anyone can find anything, it would be those two."

Ravel gave him a face of pure relief, and everyone nodded in mute agreement.

Anton Shudduer rose with him and opened the door, allowing Ghastly to exit The Room. As he passed under the doorframe he felt his shoulders tingle as certain spells activated, sigils that would reveal him as a traitor if he revealed any secrets that had been said while in The Room.

Anton closed the door softly behind him and he pulled his phone from the folds of his hideous robe. He flicked it open and pressed _call_.

o(0+0)o

It hadn't been to either of their tastes to leave Valet Chambers lying dead in his own blood. If time had permitted they would have wrapped him up in some sheets, somehow make the whole ordeal more respectable. But the clock was against them. Valkyrie wasn't sure if China would keep her secret. She had no reason to, especially since Darquesse was out to wreck havoc and destroy the known world and everyone on it. To warn someone about it was the logical preventive measure to all this upcoming doom and gloom, and Valkyrie found herself at peace with that.

Not that she wanted the whole world after her, being in that kind of centre of attention gave her the chills. It was that she understood _why_ people would now want her dead. Even those closest to her, like Ghastly, and Ravel. She was becoming evil; her actions this morning had made this clear. That small part of her, the tiny voice of decency and kindness which held back her alter ego was taking a stroll over to the dark side.

Valkyrie stole a glance at Skulduggery, his façade as stoic as it had been when they left Wickerly Manor. His eyes were grey today, and the surreal colour added to the distant look he had going on.

Skulduggery turned and his eyebrows rose when they met eyes. "You seem perturbed."

"I've had a rough morning." Valkyrie turned back to the road and leaned her elbow against the window ledge. The silence lasted a long time. It was comfortable enough, but she could feel Skulduggery quietly waiting for her to talk.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked hopefully, when the silence had tested his impatience.

Valkyrie shrugged. "Depends. Do you have a sack full of pennies?"

Skulduggery glanced at her briefly and shook his head. "One penny, one thought."

Valkyrie bit her lip and rested her chin against her arm, pressing her forehead against the Bentley's window. "Just say, someone like…like _Ghastly_ finds out I'm Darquesse. And he comes after me. Do I-" She felt a hand on her shoulder closest to Skulduggery and glanced at it from under her eyelashes.

"It won't come to that," he said sternly, his steel eyes still trained on the road ahead of them.

"I want to know if you would be all nonchalant about it, like you were this morning, if it had been Ghastly I killed, and not Valet." She shuffled her head around to stare at him. Skulduggery's façade was hard; a slight frown marred his forehead.

"Valkyrie, I don't think that-"

"_Please_, just answer me."

Skulduggery squeezed her shoulder tightly. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," she murmured quietly. "Sometimes, I get this feeling that you would let me, you know, _kill_. That when the time comes, you won't stop me." She laughed bitterly. "I want to count on you, Skulduggery, but I don't know if I can."

Skulduggery was silent and he let the hand slide off her shoulder and placed it back on the steering wheel. The hum of the Bentley powering down the highway was soothing.

"I thought you died this morning," he started softly, his lips barely moved, his voice wasn't intensely deep as he spoke, but it was smoother than usual. "I saw you disappear in front of my eyes. I hadn't even been able to save you, or protect you. You were just, _gone_. And something happened to me that hasn't happened in a long time," he paused, his face tightening at the memory. "I wanted to kill. If I had broken from those bindings China would be dead, Valet would be dead. I doubt I would've stopped there.

"But then you returned from nothing. I don't know how you did it Valkyrie, but I've never been more grateful." Skulduggery looked at her and their eyes met; his eyebrows raised upwards sadly, his eyes sincere. "In all honesty I couldn't care less for Valet. Not because I'm a horrible, brutal man, or skeleton," he corrected, "but because I am so grateful that you're _alive_," he smiled wryly at her. "You were _disintegrated_ by the _Sceptre,_ I…" he shook his head. "Valkyrie, I truly thought I'd lost you, and the fact I did nothing, well, it's not aiding my conscious, or my perception on what's right and wrong."

Skulduggery sighed heavily, his shoulders sinking, he seemed to almost concave into the cavity of his chest, and when he next spoke it was in those tones Valkyrie had only heard when he was worried. When he was _really _worried. Valkyrie could recall times when they had stared into the face of death and, well, mocked the bejeezus out of it.

"I hope you can forgive me if you felt I acted careless about this morning."

Valkyrie studied him and filled her cheeks up with air before exhaling loudly. "We are so messed up, but yes. Yes, _fine__. _I forgive you."

"I appreciate it."

"You should! Here I was thinking I could rely on you to be my moral anchor!"

Skulduggery chuckled, his mouth showing a row of teeth which he flashed at her momentarily.

Valkyrie grinned carefully. "Why're you laughing?"

He continued to chortle softly. "Because, I'm going to admit that for a few years _you_ were _my_ moral anchor."

Valkyrie blinked. "I was?"

"Indeed. It's all very sobering to have a small, helpless pet follow you about. Suddenly you have to be the guiding figure, be resolute and certain. One day when you have your own annoying student, you'll know what I mean," his laughter continued for a while longer before gently fading off.

Valkyrie glared at him, unsure whether to take or leave the comment. She decided to leave it and rested her head back against the window. Trees and houses passed by, flashes of blurry colours before disappearing from her sight.

_It will all be gone soon_.

Valkyrie tensed, her breath quickened. _You're back!?_

_Of course, did you think your little stunt would keep me down for long?_

_A little longer, yes_, Valkyrie admitted wistfully.

A sardonic chuckle. _You're doing well, Val_, Darquesse said – there was a hint of pride in her voice. _I leave you and you, just you, all by yourself, go and kill a man. In cold blood too. Very nice._

_Go away._

_How did it feel? I bet it felt good, yes? Let me guess, you feel bad about it – but not as bad as you _should_ be._

Valkyrie closed her eyes and willed the voice to be silent. Anger and darkness gripped her heart. Even her mind's voice was starting to sound more and more like Darquesse's.

However, the scary thing wasn't the fact the she didn't feel bad about Valet anymore. It was that she wanted to do it again.

Wanted to kill the next person to oppose her.

* * *

**My favourite side character in the Skulduggery series has to be dear Geoffrey Scruntinous. He's just a weird, strange, enigmatic character and I sort of see him kind of like Gordon Edgley. If poor old Gordon had magic I think he would be a sensitive like Scrutinous is - making everyone believe everything he says. It seems like the obnoxious skill he would learn, haha, just to make himself awesome.**

**Ah, poor Ghastly, having no hair. Just to show how weird my thoughts are I have always wonder what'd be like to be completely bald (polished ;D) and how I'd go about showing people I'm frustrated, because I'm a furious-hair-ruffler when I'm exasperated, haha. Would I rub my head still? Or would that just look weird? My completely bold uncle NEVER touches his head.**

**And so I ponder...**

**On another note, guesses on the person Valkyrie attempts to kill! :D**

**Cheerio!**

**Psst - if I reach 30 reviews you can have the next chapter: Death and Decay!**


	11. TEN: Death and Decay

**CHAPTER TEN: Death and Decay**

Geoffrey Scrutinous was many things, like smart, and funny, and charismatic, and lots of other good stuff. But the one area he totally sucked in was fighting.

He should have taken the hint, taken up combat lessons, got a sword, or a knife – maybe carry an automatic gun? _Something_. Especially during these dangerous times of wars and deceit.

He had been teleported back from damage control in Glasgow; the whole trip had left him empty, tired and somewhat emotionally scarred. Glasgow was gone, and he had been particularly fond of the city and its people. They had a certain rustic charm. All that was left of them were sticky puddles of blood, black as tar, the _smell_ – the smell he would _never_ forget. It had smelt like rust, rancid rust, if such an aroma existed.

"You did a fine job covering up Glasgow," said Decay, stepping out of the shadows, "Mister Scrutinous. I truly didn't think it was possible."

Scrutinous turned around slowly. He had led the man down a Dublin side street, away from civilians and mortals. The walls were brick on both sides, damp with mould, and smelt of sport socks.

"I could say the same to you about Glasgow," he said slowly, wearily. The Grand Mage had informed him about this Heller Decay.

Decay was a large man, almost as wide as he was tall. Broad, heavily built like a draught horse, thick necked. His eyes were grey with dislike and he had a sneer spread across his wide, tanned face.

"Why thankin' ya," he grinned. The man had tombstones for teeth, and like his eyes, they were grey too. "But because o'ya, not a lot of people have been seein' my masterpiece."

Scrutinous narrowed his eyes and took a step backwards. "I'm just doing my job."

"Ya see that's where this entire problem lies," said Decay sadly, stepping forward, opening his arms out to his side as if welcoming him. "It's makin' people believe that magic don't exist."

"Like I said," the sensitive replied darkly, "that's my _job_."

"Yes, well, when sorcerers rule there won't be a job for ya anymore."

Oh, how he wished he had taken a few lessons in martial arts right about now.

"So, you're going to kill me?"

Decay laughed at Scrutinous' pale face, wide-eyed at the prospects of dying. "Well, yes actually, I am," he took another step deeper into the alley. "But don't worry, you shouldn't feel too much pain."

Scruntinous closed his eyes, just as he felt a curious sensation against his skin. "You didn't find Geoffrey Scrutinous."

Decay hesitated. "What?"

"Geoffrey Scrutinous is not here. He is somewhere in England." The pressure around his body condensed, pushing against his muscles painfully.

"No, no. I _know_ you're here!" Decay grunted, the white of his eyes glowing in the dim light. "You can't trick my mind."

"You do not want to kill Geoffrey Scrutinous," he couldn't draw breath now; the pressure against him was so tight that his lungs failed to expand. This was it. He was going to die.

He wondered briefly about his life, hoped he had lived a good one, and hoped for everyone else that it all turned out good after the war. And he was secretly relieved that he didn't have to fight.

Because he sucked at fighting – he really was atrocious at it.

His flesh split the skin of his muscles, bones ground to a pulp and his brain hit the bottom of his jaw.

A second passed and Geoffrey Scrutinous was nothing but a bloodied puddle of mashed flesh.

Decay watched as the blood flowed freely through the gaps between the brickwork and shook his head from the sensitive's persuasions. From his black leather jacket he pulled out his cell phone and sent Sterrange a text:

_The truth is free_.

o)0+0(o

The autumn sun had reached its plinth and the sleek, black Bentley pulled into the parking lot of small Motel at Waterford, a few minutes past Haggard. Skulduggery parked his beauty and locked the sleeping Valkyrie inside and then went to speak with reception. A few minutes later he returned, opened the Bentley at the front passenger side and picked up Valkyrie, who grunted and snorted indignantly as he carried her to their room.

Valkyrie woke, but didn't open her eyes. She could hear Skulduggery moving around the room, humming ABBA's _Dancing Queen_ softly, his deep voice failing epically to hit the high notes. She moved slightly from underneath the cheap motel covers, her bones creaked and groaned objectively. Her skin was hot and she was sweating heavily, making the sheets cold and wet. A surge of pain shot through her body, and she gripped the covers with a grunt.

A cool hand rested against the skin of her forehead as the hard bones of Skulduggery's bare palm checked for a temperature.

"Valkyrie?"

She groaned.

"Valkyrie, you need to wake up," his voice was soft.

Valkyrie managed to open her eyes and blinked against the sweat as her breath came in gasps.

"Don't touch me!" She lashed out at Skulduggery who quickly stepped back from the bed, his head cocked to one side.

She sat up right, noticing the shadows that curled around her and tried to shake them from her, flicking her arms out sharply. The shadows moved stubbornly across the room, but came back to her again.

Skulduggery made to approach her but Valkyrie growled at him and he resorted to observing her quietly as she threw the covers off legs and sat wearily on the edge of the bed.

"What's happening," she grunted, and doubled over in pain as black spots danced around her vision. "_Skulduggery, what's happening_?!"

Valkyrie looked up at the detective, coloured lights illuminated him like a badly decorated Christmas tree and she looked down at herself; her own body radiated a dark violet and the shadows seemed to pull towards her like she was the centre of their gravity. She rubbed her arms. They were as cold as ice.

Skulduggery made no comment but reached out again and touched her brow. She was so cold that the warmth from his bones burned. Valkyrie flinched.

"You're going to go through the surge very soon," he said quietly. He rolled his hand over so the back of his hand could judge how cold she really was. "Just hold on, it will pass soon."

Valkyrie closed her eyes and willed the pain away, pulling her legs up to her face and burying her head between her knees. She rocked back and forth.

_I want to be powerful_.

"Go away," she whispered, her voice strained.

Skulduggery made to leave.

"Not you," Valkyrie hissed, "I was talking to bloody Darquesse."

"Oh," he came back.

A few minutes passed and the surge subsided leaving behind a dull headache, and the echoes of Darquesse laughing in her mind.

Skulduggery's head was tilted to one side as he watched the shadows recede and took her side cautiously. Valkyrie didn't snap at him, or hit him, so he made himself comfortable and crossed his legs, waiting for her to speak.

"I can hear Darquesse again," Valkyrie lifted her forehead off her knees and lay her face on its side, looking at Skulduggery. "Whatever I did wasn't permanent." She felt his hand rub her back slowly and sighed. "Is the surge meant to be that painful?"

Skulduggery shrugged. "It depends on the person, and their type of magic. But Elemental powers are said to be the more painful. It's not uncommon for people to set themselves alight by accident."

Valkyrie's eyes widened. "And you tell me that _now_?"

"Well, it'd be weird to bring it up randomly, wouldn't it?" Skulduggery brushed his hand across the air in front of her nose, chasing away a cloud of grey that had been lingering there.

Valkyrie watched it as it floated away and faded as it passed the light flooding in from the window. "I don't want to be a Necromancer," she whispered tensely.

"And why not?"

"Because," she paused and frowned, refusing to answer any further.

Skulduggery tutted. "Valkyrie, understand that it doesn't worry me what magic you choose. Yes, I'm not a fan of death magic, but who am I to judge? You have a special knack for necromancy, and if it makes you happy, then it makes me somewhat reasonably happy."

Valkyrie could feel him smiling warmly at her. "Okay." She ran a hand through her damp hair.

Skulduggery's jaw opened to say something but the sound of his phone ringing stopped him from responding, it was Queen's _Under Pressure_. He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his suit pants and looked at the screen – the light bounced colours off his white skull. His head tilted slightly and he turned the phone around to her so she could read who it was:

_Ghastly's calling in Elder Robes_

Valkyrie raised a questioning eyebrow at the caller's id and Skulduggery stood with a humoured shrug, then walked to the door and took the call outside.

o)0+0(o

Outside was darkening as clouds slowly crept their way around the sun, and then they lunged at it and covered it completely. The temperature dropped dramatically and a cold breeze stirred the pot plants that marked their room off from the next. Skulduggery slid his phone open.

"I thought we were off the radar, Ghastly," he said, eyeing the clouds suspiciously. "As I said, you cannot call us back to the Sanctuary unless it's the End of The World, or Doughnut Day, and I know for certain that the World isn't presently ending, and that, today, is _not_ Doughnut Day. So why are you calling during our reprieve, as it were?"

There was a long silence.

"Skulduggery, are you seriously telling me you have no idea about what's been happening the last few months?"

"I've been preoccupied by more serious matters," Skulduggery replied nonchalantly.

Ghastly particularly growled. "Did you know that someone's been murdering all the magic-to-mortals correspondents this side of Europe?"

"It's certainly unfortunate, and I am aware. I'm also aware of the fine job you do, so I know you have the situation smartly under thumb. Is there anything else you want me encourage you on?"

"Stop," said Ghastly darkly, grunting each word out forcibly. "_Joking_."

Skulduggery tilted his head and obliged him with silence.

"We're at war, Skulduggery."

"Ah…that would explain your extremely foul mood then."

On the other end Skulduggery could hear Ghastly pray briefly for patience.

"Anyways, I'm calling you in. Whatever secret mission you and Valkyrie are on can wait."

Skulduggery shook his head. "I'm afraid what we're doing is _more_ important than a war."

"Sorcerers are _killing_, Skulduggery, this isn't just speculation anymore. London is overthrown and Glasgow is destroyed. The Uprising has taken over Belfast and now they're on their way to Dublin." Ghastly explained heatedly. "They're being led by a man called Stinton Sterrange, an Ancient zealot who wants Darquesse to rule alongside him."

Skulduggery felt his shoulders involuntarily tense. "Darquesse? How would she join his cause? It seems rather unlikely."

"He has a weapon, an artifact like the Sceptre I'm guessing. He can use it to kill her, but Sterrange appears confident that he can persuade her."

"And you want Valkyrie and myself to-"

"Locate Darquesse before Sterrange does, yes. And do it immediately."

"Hmm. Very well. That _does_ take precedent over what we're doing. And what would you have us do when we find her?"

Ghastly sighed, "I think when you find her you'll be fighting for your lives, Skulduggery, and there won't be a great many options available to you."

His hand around his phone tightened. "Kill her, then?" Skulduggery asked, his voice never betrayed him.

"I trust you'll find a way," Ghastly replied encouragingly. "Whoever gets to her first has the advantage is this mad, mad fight."

"Very well."

He could hear the relief in the Elder's voice, the faint smile on his scarred lips when he spoke, "I'm glad I can count on you, Skulduggery." He ended the call.

The detective lowered the cell phone, looking at the screen, his head lowered as he pocketed the device. He adjusted the brim of his hat and tapped the symbols carved into his collarbones.

He needed to go for a walk.

o)0+0(o

The Sanctuary had stilled somewhat. It seemed to be waiting, anticipating something hidden. The shadows seemed to quiver with trepidation as Ghastly walked the dim lit corridors, listening out for whatever it was that lurked in the silence.

The Roarhaven mages had stopped their running about, and it made him suspicious. Whose order were they following? They couldn't have been all _that_ worried about the war. Roarhaven mages weren't exactly known for being the most concerned of people.

Ghastly eyed one that passed his way. The man's hood covered most of his face and from beneath it his thin and narrow jaw gutted from it like a single branch from a dead tree trunk. He saw those twisted lips sneering at him as they brushed past, but it happened so fleetingly that he couldn't be sure if it had seen it, or if he, like Ravel, was allowing himself to have paranoid hallucinations.

Ghastly turned down another corridor and stopped.

A figure was leaning against the wall.

Cloaked. Still.

Narrowing his eyes he called out to the person. "And, _who_ are you?"

The figure pulled itself smoothly off the wall, perfectly pale arms rose from the hanging sleeve of the long cloak and pulled the hood backwards slowly. It was a woman. Ivory skinned, full blooded lips and eyes that seemed to shed their own, pale blue light. Her hair was messed and strayed like a wild black river across her delicate features. Ghastly felt himself instantly drawn to her, feelings stirred. He immediately squashed them.

"China," he growled.

o)0+0(o

Fletcher had only been gone a minute: the length of a quick toilet break. He had walked into a small restroom at the back of a small Dublin coffee shop, closed a cubical door, teleported back to Australia, and then did his business in the relative comfort of his own home. The powers of teleportation had made him quite prudish. But then again, he had the whole world at his disposal, so way not lavish in certain luxuries?

Fletcher looked at himself in his vanity mirror, the edge lined with bottles and cans of hair-improving apparel. He leaned forward to see whether his hair was spiky enough.

It was okay. But while he was here Fletcher opened a jar and picked out a few sloppy pikes to stand back up. When he justified that his hair was ridiculously sharp enough, he realigned his jars and cans and teleported back to the cubicle.

Out in the small bustling shop Fletcher cast his gaze around for Geoffrey Scrutinous. He wasn't a hard man to spot. Brown fuzzy hair, strangely out of focused eyes, slippers. If Fletcher couldn't spot him then his ears would pick up the distinct shuffle of his feet in those god-awful slippers.

"Umm, excuse me?"

Fletcher turned around to the voice where a young waitress dressed in the coffee shop's colours stood, holding out two coffees. One was filled to the brim with foam; the other was pitch black and thick as tar – Scrutinous' favourite beverage. Fletcher took them with a questioning frown.

"Uh…yeah, sure okay," he relieved her of them and she pointed to the world outside the windows.

"Your friend wasn't looking very well; I think he may have gone for a walk."

Fletcher's frown hardened. It wasn't like Geoffrey Scrutinous to suddenly up and stroll about when his coffee flavoured tar was waiting for him.

"Okay, thanks for that," he gave her his most dashing smile but it wasn't enough to let him past her. With a sigh he passed her back his coffee and dug around in his trousers for some loose change. He found a five in his back pocket and passed it to her.

"All I got is Australian dollars," he said apologetically, "but I hear the exchange rate is, you know, is pretty good at the moment."

The waitress took it and held the note up to her face. "It's pink," she said.

Fletcher gave her an, _I know,_ shrug, took his mug and left the shop. He stopped and looked up both ends of the street. It was mildly busy for a…a Monday was it? Thursday? He waited for a newspaper to fly up against his legs like they did in the movies so all he had to do was bend down, pick it up, and know exactly what day it was. But it didn't happen. Which was an inconvenience.

Across the road a man walked past. It could just as well have been no-one of any repute but Fletcher has spent enough time with strange people who walked with the intention of being absolutely invisible. He had seen Valkyrie walk like this, mechanical, firm. Somehow this man could keep up and fall back with crowds without breaking step. He was very good.

As if he could sense Fletcher watching the man paused a moment and turned back, his large, squarish head scanning the street. His eyes fell on Fletcher.

Fletcher recoiled slightly, as if those grey eyes had a physical strength all of their own.

It was _that_ man. The one who destroyed Glasgow. The one who had _killed all those people_.

Fletcher dropped the coffees, letting them hit the ground amidst people loudly disapproving and ran across the road. Horns blared as cars slowed with a whining squeal of unkempt breaks. He bounded up along the path; dodged a group of giggling girls and lost sight of Heller Decay for but a moment. He barreled through a jogging team, didn't bother to apologise, and caught a glimpse of Decay's large body charging down the street.

Fletcher slowed and watched him go. His brain was kicking his eyes hard. The boots as Decay had fled had blood on them. Not much, the man probably wasn't even aware of it, and maybe to anyone else it didn't look like much.

Fletcher had had his fair share of blood stained footwear to last well over a lifetime.

He walked back to the coffee shop and followed the trail from there. There wasn't much to read from the dirt spatted pathway and people were giving him stares as he meticulously studied the ground.

"A little loose are ya?" Some punk snapped when Fletcher accidently ran his spiked hair into him.

Two streets up the road and the first signs of Decay's boots appeared. It was a faint brown smudge, occurring in long heavy strides. Fletcher deduced that Decay had stayed only on this street, otherwise the blood would have been rubbed entirely off.

Uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach.

He never got that excitement, like Skulduggery and Valkyrie get when they followed clues like bloodhounds. Only that nervous feeling when you think the worse and really, _really_ don't want it to be true.

The blood stains on the grey cement grew sharper and stopped outside a side alley. Fletcher peered in, saw nothing, and walked up the street further in search of more clues. Finding none, he returned to the alley.

It wasn't ominous as far as alleys went. It was wide, bricked, and smelled of rugby locker rooms. Fletcher walked further in, passed several rows of large blue bins when his foot scooted forward in front of him.

Fletcher slipped forward, threw his hands out and somehow managed to catch his balance. He looked down.

It was a flat, bloodied slipper.

Fletcher jumped as his phone rang, caught off guard he answered it, fumbling, swallowed a mouthful of vomit.

"Fletcher, I need you to teleport Geoffry Scrutinous to the Sanctuary. We have a certain China Sorrows in custody and either she's gone stark raving mad or…" he trailed off as his voice betrayed him.

Fletcher would have sympathised with him if he wasn't standing on the remains of the slipper-wearing sensitive. He didn't want to look down but it was a though his head had suddenly turned to iron and the blood beneath his feet was the magnet. The blood had run between the grooves of the red bricks, slowly sinking earthward. Small rivers of the stuff run further into the alley, following the natural downwards slope.

"Fletcher?" Ghastly asked, his voice was uncharacteristically hollow. "Fletcher, can you and Geoffrey get here?"

Fletcher took several steps back and leaned his back against the mouldy wall. "Geoffry's dead," he whispered, "and…and I think I'm going to vomit."

And he did.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Dark Lies are Evil Secrets**

**;D Reviews puh-leeeeez?**


	12. ELEVEN: Dark Lies are Evil Secrets

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Dark Lies Are Evil Secrets **

There was a dark and heavy despair in the air. Emotions were choked back, tempers flared, lies spread. The news had been heard and the horror moved like an infectious disease.

Valkyrie Cain is _Darquesse_, the World Destroyer, the leader of the Uprising, the _killer_.

Who had known? Why had no one suspected?

Ravel sat at his chair with his hands holding up his forehead, pushing back his hair so that it rose over his palms in waves. There was a spatter of sweat across the bridge of his nose and the tops of his high cheek bones which he noticed but didn't care to wipe away.

Who was lying? Was China trying to be deceitful? Or had Skulduggery purposefully kept such a dark secret away from them? And Valkyrie? Why _her_ of all people?

Ravel finally wiped the sweat and sat up, studying the papers around his desk with an emptiness he wasn't accustomed to as he tried to piece together the truth.

China had to be lying. But until Fletcher arrived with Geoffrey Scrutinous there was no way to be sure. Of course he could ask one of the Roarhaven's sensitives to divine the truth from China's accusations, it was just he didn't trust them one iota. The news of Valkyrie possibly being the World Destroyer was proving to be hard enough to contain. Ravel didn't want to think what might happen when the news reached Roarhaven ears, or Madame Mist's. So far he and Ghastly had managed to keep her out of the loop. It worried him that she didn't really seem to care anymore. She had her own agenda.

Ravel knew what it was, but he couldn't say for sure if she had sided with the Supreme Sanctuary and could only assume that for the time being their goals were alike. Sorcerers were to rule.

The thing that was driving him into madness was the god-damn waiting! Ravel thought himself a patient gentleman, an absolute gem if he had anything to say about himself, but sitting and waiting wasn't exactly his forte. He was a _doer_.

Or a procrastinator.

But, well, most definitely not a waiter.

"You don't seem to handling the news well, Erskine," said China softly from where she sat across from the Grand Mage's desk, shackled to her chair by the ankle. If anyone were to unexpectedly walk in on them it would appear to all the world as if they were having a friendly heart-to-heart chat. There most certainly wasn't anything foul happening, no one was the World Destroyer, and China wasn't bound to an office chair.

Ravel leaned back in his seat. "Until Geoff gets here, I'm going to assume you're lying through your foul teeth, China," he said curtly, with a slight nod. Very gentlemanly.

China ignored his kind insult. "What will you do?"

"Well, I plan to have you shackled and chained a little longer, say a few more insults to your face, and then I might go and find you a dark, dank cell where you can rot."

"I get the feeling you don't like me very much."

"You're as astute as ever."

"I assume the news of my actions during the war concerning a skeleton has reached your ears."

"Oh, you mean the news about you leading Skulduggery's family to their deaths? Yes. Yes it has."

The coldness in Ravel's usually warm voice hit her like a frozen sledge hammer, coupled with a blow from the feelings that stirred in her after hearing her atrocious actions through the Grand Mage's lips. She latched onto the emotion and toyed with it. She had never felt it before, never had it chew at her with such ferociousness it seemed to consume her insides.

Regret. Oh, how she regretted her actions. She wished she was the person she was now during the war; smarter, wiser…kinder? Valkyrie had wanted her to be kinder. Had she managed that?

No, China concluded. Not really. She had used the Sceptre on her after all; had killed her in plain view of Skulduggery Pleasant – just as she had done with his family, all those years ago.

No. She hadn't changed. She was the same China she was during the war with Mevolent. When threatened, she killed. It was her nature.

The realisation dawned on her with a coldness that came with the morning. She loved Valkyrie Cain and Skulduggery Pleasant, had wanted them to be her friends with a desperation that had almost consumed her. But she loved herself too much.

China's focus came back to Ravel who was staring at her strangely but before he could say something his eyes rose to the door that opened, a white faced Fletcher Renn stumbled into the office, the large and solid body of Ghastly following close behind. Philomena Random entered, her face had a unhealthy pale yellow about it, her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks had a silkiness that shone dully under the light. She was holding the stark white forearm of Agog as he led her forward and closed the door behind them.

Ravel looked at each of them in turn and then back to Ghastly whose eyes were dark. He sighed, rand a hand through his messy, damp hair. "I take it that Geoffrey…?"

Ghastly shook his head slowly, as Random gave out a slight sob which she disguised behind a cough – it made her sob again, and she followed it with another weak cough. This went on for a while until she managed to recollect herself and became composed.

Ravel felt shattered inside for her. "I know this is a bit much to ask from you right now, Philomena, but-"

"No," she said, releasing Agog's arm and stepped forward towards China. "No its," she took a deep breath, "it's fine. I can do it."

"Very well then," said Ghastly uncertainly, and motioned to China seated in her chair. "When you're ready."

"All right," Random said, taking another breath, she walked around to the front of the chair and nodded. "Hello, Miss Sorrows."

China gave a slow inclination in return – as far as she knew she held no grudges towards the young sensitive. "Philomena Random."

"Now just be calm, Miss Sorrows," Random began, kneeling in front of the chair, "I'm going to ask you a few questions and you're going to answer me truthfully, okay?"

China nodded.

"Right. Just simple stuff first. What's your name?"

"China Sorrows," China answered.

"How old are you?"

China fought to remain silent, but the temptation to answer grew stronger. "One hundred and…"

Random raised her eyebrows, forcing her eyes wider if anatomically possible.

"_Eighty-three_," China snapped. Random was now right up there on her list of grudges.

The sensitive nodded and looked up at Ghastly, standing behind China. "She's answering honestly. What'd you want me to ask?"

"We want to know if what she says about Valkyrie is the truth."

Random frowned. "Can I get that a little more specific?"

Ghastly looked at Ravel who shrugged. "Is Valkyrie really Darquesse. Is she telling the truth?"

Fletcher and Random's eyes widened.

"Wh-what!?" Spluttered Fletcher, taking a few steps forward to grab Ghastly's robes. "You don't actually," he laughed, slightly hysterical. "Valkyrie's not Darquesse!"

Ghastly turned back to look at the boy, frowned and then motioned for Random to do it.

Random asked and China allowed her persuasion to wash over her, completely under the sensitive's power.

"Valkyrie is Darquesse," she answered simply, her features were glassy. "I destroyed her with the Sceptre. She came back. She is unstoppable."

"She's _lying_," Fletcher shouted. "She has to be lying!"

Random shook her head. "It's the truth."

"Does Skulduggery know?" Ghastly asked and Random relayed it to China.

China seemed to drop her composure for a moment, as if struggling to reply. When she did, she sounded defeated. "Yes," she murmured.

There was the sound of crashing as various items flew across the room and shattered or thudded loudly onto the floor. Ravel's face was livid.

"He _knew_, Ghastly! _He knew all along!_"

Ghastly felt Fletcher and Agog retreat back towards the door, and saw Random scuttle to them. Even China recoiled visibly as she broke from her trance, startled by Ravel's rage.

"Yes. I know," he said quietly.

The paper in the air reached the floor in a chorus of scrapes as Ravel slammed his fist into the desk. It shuddered violently, then concaved with a crack. He stood over it, panting.

"That was constructive," muttered China as Ravel kicked the few standing pieces over.

Ravel glared at the remains, almost willing it to pull itself together to fight back, but it didn't. It was a table. "Okay, positives," he said, gathering his composure, looking to the startled people in the room. "We now know _where_ Darquesse is…or Valkyrie, or, aaaargh!" He roared at the ceiling. "Right. Whatever is fine. We got the gist. Valquesse, everyone. It's decided."

China sighed. "Erskine, dear, you sound confused."

"I got this under control," Ravel insisted snappishly. "Once we have Valquesse everything will fall into place."

"The only thing is," said Ghastly slowly, "that we don't know where she or Skulduggery are at the moment."

China gritted her teeth. "Cork," she informed them. "They're tracking the last sightings of a shape-shifter there."

Ghastly felt his heart skip a beat and his eyes met with Ravel's wildly surprised ones. "Shape-shifter? My god. China, are you sure?"

She lowered her head and nodded.

Ravel straightened his robes, his face a mask of seriousness. "We have to stop them."

Ghastly frowned. "I'm afraid, I agree."

"I'd hoped to never have to use them," Ravel said. There was a trace of sadness in his voice. "Especially against…against Skulduggery and Valkyrie."

Ghastly inhaled and looked up at the dull roof of the room. "I know."

o)0+0(o

The sky was darkening and what was left of the autumn warmth was quickly giving way to a cold and bitter wind that blew in from the east. Skulduggery Pleasant opened the back of the Bentley and took out a bag of clothes. The walk had done him some good. Had straightened his thoughts, refueled his resolve, and had eased the nagging guilt that had made him indirectly lie to Ghastly.

It was only a small lie, based on a small and insignificant technicality that he had already found Darquesse. But despite the tinniness of the lie it was still a predominantly dark one. It was a dark, _black_ lie. An evil secret.

Skulduggery felt the wind tug at his hat as he closed the boot softly and listened to it.

It was catching up with them, the secret. Cork was their one last ditch effort, their last dance together. If he didn't find the answer in Cork then he would lose her, either to Darquesse or to a more permanent end at Stinton Sterrange's hand. He was well aware that where there was life there was a weapon which could destroy it. The Faceless Ones had been a perfect example of this rule.

His phone rang and Skulduggery reached into his back pocket to retrieve it, read the caller ID, _Ravel in ugly robes_, tutted, and then answered promptly.

"_WHAT IN THE BLAZES!?_" Ravel shouted. The loudness of his voice caused Skulduggery's phone to crackle in pain. "_YOU KNEW VALKYRIE WAS DARQUESSE THIS WHOLE TIME AND YOU NEVER BOTHERED TO TELL ANYONE!?_"

"Ah," Skulduggery replied slowly.

"Do you know _what_ you've done here? There is a magical _army _on the rise. The sorcerers are forming an _army_; they have already taken control of Northern Ireland. Do you know who they want _leading_ them? The World Destroyer, _Darquesse_. Who just so happens to be _your_ little pal, _Valkyrie_. Just whose side are you on Skulduggery Pleasant!?"

"I'm not on any side, Erskine, I-"

"I'm tired of your half-hearted reasoning!" He continued to shout and showed no signs of letting up. "Ghastly has convinced me to give you an hour to get your sorry ass back to the Sanctuary. If you're not here consider you and Valkyrie," his voice went silent for a moment, but he restarted again with just as much passion. "Consider you and Valkyrie on the Cardinal list. Do you understand? This isn't something you can charm or joke your way out of."

Skulduggery listened as the phone went dead and lowered it to his side when another call came through. He reluctantly raised the cell to his ear. There was only silence on the other end.

"I want to know where you stand," growled Ghastly's voice. Husky with seriousness. "And I want you to be straight with me. How bad is Valkyrie?"

"Ghastly," Skulduggery started, with all the sincerity he could muster, "I just want you to know that I don't stand with the Sanctuary; or with the idea of Sterrange trying to take over the world. I'm here only for Valkyrie. I'm after a solution to all this."

"And Valkyrie? She's Darquesse, is she?"

"She is."

"Does it look like she'll destroy the world?"

"It's hard to say."

Ghastly didn't sound satisfied with the answer. "China Sorrows is here. She said you came to her for advice."

"I did, yes."

"She said that even though there is nothing left we can do for Valkyrie that you refused to end her."

"I won't end her, Ghastly."

"Skulduggery, as your friend, I'm urging you to bring her here, to the Sanctuary. We can help, you know. You don't have to do this alone."

"No. That won't help, Ghastly. You know it, I know you do. Look at what we tried to do for Argeddion. Look at how that _ended_."

"Regardless, we _need_ to stop all this," Ghastly urged gently. "I'm sure Valkyrie would rather be herself than perish as some evil entity bent on savagery."

Skulduggery gripped the phone hard and heard the bevel pop from under his fingers. "Listen, Ghastly, I am a detective. Solving things is what I do. I don't care if you send all your blood hounds after me; I am _never_ bringing Valkyrie in. You can hunt me to the end of this world but I won't go down until I have the answer."

"Skulduggery, you need to be realistic and tell Valkyrie the truth. She will destroy this world. And if not, then this war will."

"To be honest, Ghastly, I don't care anymore."

Ghastly was silent, and it seemed to stretch on forever. To the point that Skulduggery thought that he had hung up on him.

"You love her," he said after the longest while. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Why you would go to all these lengths for an answer? Oh, I have seen you shoot innocent people in the back of the head Skulduggery, if it meant preventing the death of a hundred other people. Your cold logic always won out. You could always be relied on to do what needed to be done. But now? Well, China is right about you; your emotions _have_ gotten in the way, and for the worse possible reason. Skulduggery, do you really want to play that card? She's seventeen and you're _dead_."

"Well, that says a lot about my character. My love endures long after death, but yours? Yours stops, even when she's still out there, _alive_."

_"You-"_

Skulduggery hung up, he was breathing heavily. He threw the phone at the sidewalk and it split open in a million layers, which he stepped on, grinding the plastic and metal into the cement. He threw a fire ball at it, and the rest of it melted into a pitiful puddle of plastic. He felt a little bit better. Hitching the bag up high he entered the motel and threw the it at the end of Valkyrie's bed.

"Get up," he snapped.

Valkyrie sat up quickly but groggily. "S'up?"

"The Sanctuary has given us an hour to turn ourselves in."

Valkyrie froze mid-yawn.

"Put your clothes on. We leave in three minutes," he marched out of the motel again, probably to check on the old Bentley.

Her heart pounding somewhere near her vocal chords Valkyrie leapt out of bed and pulled off China's dress pants, hopped around ridiculously on one leg, then kicked them into the corner of the room. She grabbed her undergarments from the bag and pulled them on, feeling surprisingly more confident, and then pulled on a pair of deep blue jeans which fitted more or less. She threw on a white long sleeve top, a pale blue-grey shirt over that, and then pulled on the black jacket to finish it all off. She looked at herself for a few seconds in the mirror, ran her fingers through her hair, shrugged and ran out of the room.

Valkyrie left the key hanging in the door lock as she slid into the Bentley. Inside, Skulduggery tapped the steering wheel impatiently. As she closed the door he was speeding out of the parking lot, and Valkyrie quickly pulled the seat belt across her chest and clicked it into place.

"Give me your phone."

Valkyrie studied his façade as she passed him her personal effect, his face seemed to be set from stone and his jaw jutted stubbornly from under his teeth. He pressed the button for his window to lower and tossed the phone out onto the road. The oncoming traffic hit it and it scattered across the tarmac poetically.

Valkyrie stared at him, uncertain on how to react.

Skulduggery pressed his foot down on the accelerator as they approached the highway. "We have an hour free on the main roads," he said gruffly, "before we have to make do with the back roads."

"What happens after an hour?"

"The Cardinals."

* * *

**Huh...well, China's age I think makes kind of sense...maybe? Cuz I know the war against Mevolent was during the 1800s, and it only finished something like 70 years ago before Tanith was born. And when China lured Skul's family to Serpine I get this feeling it was some kind of "prove" yourself task to show her worth and muscle (maybe she was being shaken as the leader of the diablerie - Scorn or something might had pushed her into doing it too :D?). I don't actually think she's EVIL-evil but being raised under a Faceless regime just makes her act and behave in a deceitful way whether she intends to be that way or not. I don't know. That's how I see it. But I'm guessing she was about 25-30 years old when she managed to lure our beloved skeleton's family to death. I imagine her being so young it would've been a impressively hard feat for her to do but she went about it with stealth and secrecy. **

**I'm not entirely sure. So lets just say she was born in 1830 :D!**

**Haha.**

**Oh btw. This won't be Valduggery people! Sorry xD I mean Skulduggery's love as being totally platonic. He's come to the point where his existence relies heavily on her. I always imagined that if Skulduggery's rage ever healed (as has been suggested by people saying Val is 'good for him') then that passion would move to something else - and well, it would have to be Val. I think he sees a lot of what he could never do for people in her. It sad and sweet. **

**Over and out peeps!**


	13. TWELVE: Seeing Red

**CHAPTER TWELVE: Seeing Red**

They drove in relative silence. Skulduggery's façade was down and Valkyrie was forced to make do with the many subtleties of the detective's movements to deduce what it was he was thinking. And as if he could feel her prying into his thoughts Skulduggery reached across and turned on the radio. It tuned automatically onto his favourite channel and the car filled with the sound of old classics for which Valkyrie had little appreciation for, but dared not to complain.

Half an hour went by and the soothing voice of Frank Sinatra singing the _Girl from Ipanema _filled her ears and Valkyrie turned to Skulduggery with a grin.

He didn't look her way. "What are you happy about?"

"They're playing our song!" she beamed.

"_Our_?" Skulduggery asked quizzically.

"Yes. When I started knowing you I remember you whistling _Girl from Ipanema_, and it kind of has, stuck. I hear this song and it reminds me of you, Skulduggery."

The detective was silent for a moment as he changed lanes and sped the Bentley on. "You're just trying to get on my good side."

Valkyrie shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. If I was, is it working?"

"I suppose it is. But then, it is hard to be in a foul mood with Frank playing. He just has that voice."

Valkyrie huffed. "Sure. Sure he does."

"I take it you don't like Frank?"

"He's a little old for me."

"Nonsense. You're just too young to know good music when you hear it."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I am _not_. I just don't…I don't know, relate, or something with that music."

"Which we can put down to your mind-boggling immaturity."

"Skulduggery," Valkyrie groaned, "you know I'm not immature."

Skulduggery chuckled and left her to flare her nostrils in silence. He pondered for a moment as Valkyrie leaned against the Bentley's window, looking out at the night.

"I'm sorry about your phone," he said, failing astonishingly to sound apologetic.

Valkyrie raised an eye at her dark reflection in the glass. "Over reaction much?"

"Maybe just a tad," he admitted graciously and shrugged.

Valkyrie let the silence fall between them, tense and uncomfortable. She bit her lip. "They know, don't they?"

She watched as he tilted his head forward, thinking.

"Ghastly and Ravel," she continued, "Do they want me dead?"

"No. Just to return to the Sanctuary."

Valkyrie frowned and her reflection did the same – she involuntarily saw a lot of Darquesse in her face and recoiled from the window, startled. Skulduggery looked at her sharply.

"You okay?"

"No," she whispered. She wriggled around in her seat uncomfortably. "I just…why don't we just go to the Sanctuary?"

"And why," said the skeleton slowly, "would we do that?"

"_Think_ about it, Skulduggery," Valkyrie exploded, her face contorted into desperation. "They know now, maybe I can get help. Maybe Ghastly knows someone who…"

Skulduggery shook his head. "Returning to the Sanctuary is a horribly _bad_ idea."

"But Ravel and Ghastly-"

"Want you either secured or neutralised."

A damning silence fell across the two.

Valkyrie felt her breath come in small gasps. "What do you mean _neutralised_?"

"Five months ago when we started on this journey," Skulduggery explained, "I went to Doctor Nye to see what it would do if Darquesse was ever brought into the Sanctuary. I wanted to know how…how you would be contained."

Valkyrie swallowed. "How?"

Skulduggery's hollowed eyes looked at her steadily. "You would have to still be _you_, be willing enough to be dissected conscious. And your soul," he paused, falling into thoughtful silence.

"What about it?"

"Nye's figured out how to splice them."

Valkyrie sat up straight. "Well that's great isn't it? Couldn't he cut off the piece that's Darquesse?"

She felt Skulduggery frown down at her. "You keep forgetting, Valkyrie, that you and Darquesse are the one and the same soul. You can't just lop her off like she's extra baggage. No. It can't be done."

"Okay. Fine. So what happens then?"

"Your soul goes into a soul-catcher and you become a Remnant."

"Oh."

"Indeed, _oh_. The _other_ reason for not going back to the Sanctuary is the fact that if Ghastly and Ravel know about you being Darquesse, then it won't be long before someone _else_ does too."

"Like who?"

"There's a man."

"There always is," Valkyrie murmured.

"Yes. His name is Stinton Sterrange."

Valkyrie nodded slowly. "I've heard of him. He was that right hand man to Strom in the English Sanctuary wasn't he? The one all for sorcerers' rights and stuff."

"Quite. I feel compelled to retract my immature statement earlier; I'm surprised you actually remembered."

"I am amazing when the mood strikes me," she revealed smartly, and smiled.

"Well, Sterrange has led an Uprising across England, Scotland and is currently occupying Belfast. It's chaos. Ghastly believes it has come to war."

"_War_?" Valkyrie gushed. A part of her flared in excitement. War! Death, blood, _killing_. There was a war beginning, and the very core of her suddenly longed to be in the centre of it. She jerked her head and shook the feeling down, shuddering.

Skulduggery had noticed. Something about the way his jaw angled towards her told her that he had seen the thrill in her eyes. When he spoke, his soft, mellow voice sounded troubled.

"He is a magic zealot, and wants Darquesse to lead his Uprising."

"Oh…" she replied softly and cast her gaze down to her hands. "Oh, that's…that sucks."

"How do you feel about it?"

"I, umm…" Valkyrie twiddled her thumbs a moment and looked up. Skulduggery's eyes were back to the road but they tilted at her. "I feel happy. That's disturbing, isn't it? I mean, I know I should be horrified at the thought, but this whole war-thing and me leading it, it sounds pretty _awesome_."

Skulduggery inhaled loudly and the Bentley lurched suddenly to one side, sped along the tarmac loudly and screeched to a sudden halt. Valkyrie's head jarred forward and she felt her neck twinge, she barked objectively in pain and groaned, rubbing it tenderly.

"Oh my god! What happened!?" She asked, wide-eyed as she glanced out of all the Bentley's windows in search of the danger.

"Fuel!" Skulduggery said cheerfully as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "If you want something to eat or drink then grab it now, we're not stopping again," he excited the car, leaving Valkyrie to feel unstably shocked.

o)0+0(o

Geoffrey Scrutinous was blissfully dead, and if Sterrange was the kind of man who kept a list he would have checked it off with a flourish. It was one less thing that he had to worry about.

He was feeling particularly exuberant; news had reached him about Darquesse. About that powerful, wonderful woman.

Her taken name was Valkyrie Cain – such a strong, sensual name. Mysterious. And Sterrange could already picture what she looked liked. Beautiful, like the darkness, just as unfathomable. She would lead him and the Uprising into a new world, one where mages ruled.

Heller Decay broke his reverie, opened the door of his office and stepped in with a straightened back.

"The Irish Sanctuary is onto Darquesse. My informer tells me that Grand Mage Ravel has placed them on the Cardinal list," he told Sterrange, his grey eyes glowed faintly into the yellow light above them. Sterrange noticed there was blood on his trousers but didn't bother to point it out. He had probably been dealing with any rebellious mortals – lately, some had been trying to escape. It had been a tedious task, rounding them up again and putting them away. In the end Heller Decay found it easier to just shoot them.

Sterrange nodded vaguely. "They won't get far."

"I have _other _news, sir."

"Out with it then, Heller."

"Valkyrie Cain is also known as Stephanie Edgely. She has family living in a town called Haggard."

Decay saw Sterrange's eye widen, the corners of his mouth twisted and coiled into a thin-lipped, delighted smile. "_More_ Ancient descendants?"

"Yes."

"And you are certain?"

"I am positive."

Sterrange gave a little jump in his seat and clapped his hands together, rubbing them furiously. "Oh! This is great news! Great news!"

"How would you like me to deal with them?" Decay asked, a gleam in his steely eyes.

"Oh no, Heller, no!" Sterrange said quickly, thoughtfully. He rubbed his gin eagerly, his teeth bared in a sardonic grin. "This will require a _personal_ touch."

Decay shrugged, nodded and left the room.

o)0+0(o

Valkyrie had spent the best part of a minute digging around the Bentley's nooks and crannies for any lose change, but in the end she was forced to meander Skulduggery's way; his façade was up as he stood by the gas pumps and filled the Bentley. She mumbled something about being hungry and penniless to which Skulduggery sighed, reached into his suit pants and pulled out a few notes. He said something about pets being expensive on upkeep and Valkyrie skipped to the shop.

Her stomach growled loudly as she entered, the smell of stale pies and rolls crashed into her like an almost physical thing. Her saliva pooled in waves and she swallowed and approached the oven.

"Can I help ya?" came a voice from the counter and Valkyrie spun around to find a weedy thin man standing there, almost lost behind the tobacco dispensers behind him. He looked at her with strangely odd-shaped eyes. "Can I help ya?" He asked again.

"Umm, yeah, two pies."

He raised his sparsely haired eyebrows at her and Valkyrie quickly added, "Please."

The shop attendant nodded and moved out from behind the counter to the ovens, packeting the pies; not bothering to ask her what flavour. It didn't matter to her anyway, after a day of growing stale in the heating oven all pies began to taste the same regardless. She was just hungry. Her stomach growled so loud that she could feel it bubble beneath her skin.

The man looked at her, almost embarrassed.

Valkyrie laughed awkwardly. "Been a long day on the road," she said as he closed the oven windows.

"Yeah, sure," he went back behind the counter and dialled up the price. "Is that your car out there?" He said, indicating to the Bentley sitting under the painfully yellow halogen lights. Next to it Skulduggery was closing the fuel cap, his fake lips pursed, whistling.

"It's my friend's," she said, rummaging in her jeans for the cash Skulduggery had given her, she pulled it out in a clenched fist.

"Little old looking to be ya friend," he commented. "Seven-twenty. Anything else?"

"Ah, yeah. A bottle of water, _please_."

"Yup," he added it and Valkyrie passed him over the money, scrunched and slightly damp from being in her fists. The attendant didn't seem to care and swept it into his till when Skulduggery walked in.

"Did you get everything you wanted?" He eyed the two pies in Valkyrie's hands and she clutched them to her chest defensively.

"What? I'm hungry!"

"My dear, I didn't say anything."

Valkyrie eye-balled him, "Mm-hmm," and went to wait by the Bentley as Skulduggery paid for the fuel.

The temperature was dropping as the night fully descended; Valkyrie guessed it was sometime around six o'clock. She leaned up against her side of the Bentley, opened the packet to her pie and started eating. The meat was thick and warm; it would've tasted bland and floury if she wasn't ravishing.

Skulduggery walked towards her, rubbing the back of his head. "What a terribly confusing fellow," he said bemused. "I asked him if he had been dropped as a child on account of his wobbly eyes and he suddenly, without warning became rather hostile. I didn't even get the correct change back," he looked sadly down at his open palm where a small pile of coins sat and sighed.

Valkyrie snorted, causing the pastry of her pie to fly up around her face.

Skulduggery's expression fell, unimpressed. "You eat with all the grace of a dying pig."

"Shut up!" Valkyrie laughed, and wiped the flakes from her face with a sleeve. "So, now that you're in a good mood, where is it that you're taking me?"

He took her side against the Bentley and tapped his foot on the oil stained concrete. "We're looking for a shape-shifter in Cork."

"I figured that," Valkyrie grunted, taking a massive bite of pie to Skulduggery's annoyance. "But you got to tell me, Skul," she swallowed, "what's up with the shape-shifter? I thought China," she wrinkled her nose at the name, "said they were extinct?"

"Well, not being seen for one hundred years doesn't exactly classify as being _extinct_. And besides," Skulduggery tilted his hat up a notch as Valkyrie finished her pie and started the next with gusto. He watched her and rolled the eyes of his façade, and struggled on with his explanation as she grinned at him. "_Besides_, it helps to know _how_ to identify a shape-shifter. They can, after all, be _anything."_

"Cool! And you can do that?"

"Of course not Valkyrie, that requires an adept magic which hasn't been seen in centuries. No. I'm merely pointing out that I'm almost certain we'll know it when we see it."

Valkyrie frowned. "Yeah, okay, sure. But the million dollar question is Skulduggery, how will a shape-shifter cure," she flapped her free hand at her body, "_me_?"

Skulduggery made an expression that suggested he wasn't exactly sure himself, and shrugged. "It's the most powerful entity in existence. I'm certain that, if we find it, it'll know what to do."

"What? You mean," said Valkyrie slowly, swallowing the hope that had started rising in her throat. "You mean to say that there's someone out there, with a _cure_?"

"I _mean_ to say," Skulduggery corrected, "that there is a legend, a _lost_ legend mind, Valkyrie, that _hints_ at the possibility of someone, whose existence hasn't brushed the minds of scholars for centuries now, who _may _or _may not _have an idea about our Darquesse dilemma." He lowered the rim of his hat with a finger and studied Valkyrie carefully. "It's all very," he paused, mulling for a word.

"Vague?"

Skulduggery shook his head. "In this instance _vague_ has a particular certainty about it; I'm going to go with _dire_."

Valkyrie frowned. "Dire? What's so dire about a glimpse of hope? Have you given up on me? Have you given up that I can be cured?"

Skulduggery raised an open palm defensively and calmly explained himself. "I haven't given up, Valkyrie, and I won't. Not until the very last molecule of air has escaped my teeth, in which case, I think I'm obliged to give up a great many things, like my dreams of dancing on Broadway."

"Your dream is to dance on Broadway?"

"Why not? I'm impeccably charismatic. I'll be a show stopper!"

"But you don't dance! You _rarely _do!"

"That's because I'm not on Broadway," argued Skulduggery.

Valkyrie was about to retort when the air stirred around them and a soft _whump!_ reached their ears from across the gas station. Fletcher stepped from out of the darkness and under the searing pale lights that made his hair shine like a spiky halo above his slightly tanned features. He seemed upset.

Valkyrie wasn't exactly paying attention to him. She was looking at the three Cleavers that stood at his back, each with a hand rested on the teleporter's shoulders. They were Cleavers as far as the conventional Cleavers went, but with cloaks the colour of blood and visors that gleamed a sinister black.

Skulduggery's stance shifted instantly, his knees bent as he stepped forward, shielding her as she continued to gape – reminded horribly of the crimson Cleavers in the alternate world. She had never suspected they existed in her own realm too.

Fletcher swallowed and it could be heard across the lot. "Valkyrie…Valkyrie _why_? Why didn't you come to us for help?"

Valkyrie felt a lump in her throat when she answered. "Fletcher, I couldn't."

"Why not!?" He shouted and pointed sharply at the detective. "Was it because _he_ said? Is that it!?"

"No, Flet-"

"He doesn't _care _about you, Valkyrie! He's a selfish, creepy old skeleton who thinks he's always right! Please!" His eyes widened, begging. "_Please_ come back with me to the Sanctuary!"

"Fletcher, I…" she took a shaky breath in. "I can't."

"Please, Valkyrie. Help _yourself_ for once," Fletcher's voice wobbled dangerously.

Skulduggery raised an open palm at him. "Fletcher, I think we can talk-"

Fletcher rounded on him; the halo of spikes around his head seemed to almost flare under the light. "_You_ don't have any right to talk. You can _shut-up_!"

Skulduggery fell into silence and Valkyrie flared, stormed forward a step when bony fingers tightened around her upper arm and held her back.

"Don't," Skulduggery warned lowly. "I don't like this."

"If something happens we can take them, can't we?" She asked.

"No. I don't like how _close_ we are to the Bentley."

Valkyrie blanched. "You're kidding?"

"I never kid. Cardinals are elementals. If they throw anything our way the Bentley's going to get damaged."

"You're _worried_ about the _Bentley_?"

"I get the feeling that you're not?"

"Not right at this moment!" Valkyrie hissed.

Skulduggery raised his eyebrows at her in a slightly hurt way. "Then it's a good thing I have a plan."

Without warning he turned and ran into the night, pumping his arms furiously, his long thin legs stretching for speed and distance. Without so much as a sound of their scarlet boots against the cement, two of the three Cardinals fled after him, unsheathing their scythes as they ran.

Valkyrie gaped as his skinny figure disappeared into the night. _Honestly, sometimes he drives me mad!_ She thought heatedly, turning her gazed to Fletcher who seemed just as shocked by Skulduggery's actions as she was.

"So you coming with me, Val? Huh?" Fletcher asked softly, now hopeful. "We can help. I promise we'll try everything."

Valkyrie studied him under the light. He had grown in the last full months, seemed to have filled out a bit in the upper body, but his accent was still the same. Still whiny, still annoying, still telling her to do the safe-thing. The Cardinal behind him had its visor trained on her, and she could see a warped version of herself in its reflection. The shapeless eyes that looked back at her were dark under the sandy light, her mouth convulsed distastefully.

"Fletcher," she warned wearily, leaning back against the Bentley for support, "Fletcher, I'm not quite all right."

"Hey, it's fine. I know you're Darquesse, but you're still Val too." He came towards her.

Valkyrie threw a hand out at him, gesturing him to stop. "I don't want to hurt you, Fletcher. Just go. Please."

"You're on the Cardinal list. I can't just leave you," he implored. He frowned as Valkyrie ducked her head, her black hair rolling forward to cover her face. Her shoulders began to shake.

Valkyrie laughed and looked up. "Well, consider yourself warned!"

o)0+0(o

Fletcher stopped his advance and looked confused, his expression turned to pain as a wall of air knocked him from his feet and sent him flying backwards into the window of the gas shop behind him. The glass cracked but held as he slumped to the ground. Red and white light flashed sporadically in his vision as he watched the Cardinal spring into action.

Valkyrie narrowly avoided the sweep of the scythe as it came towards her mid-section and barely managed to duck under a fireball that came searing her way. She raised a wall of shadows and threw it over the Bentley, protecting it somewhat from whatever might come its way.

The fireball hit the swirling darkness and dissipated. Valkyrie lunged under the scythe again, rolled to her feet, made to stand when the metal came down into her shoulder with a singing ring.

She threw herself forward, the blade coming free from her flesh before it could cleave her in two. The Cardinal moved as fast as she could, faster than she had ever seen a Cleaver move. It moved with an inhuman precision, almost as if it could predict her actions.

Valkyrie managed to get her feet back under her and stumbled into a headlong run. She assumed the soundless steps of the Cardinal to be not too far behind. She felt the air twinge and leaped forward, the tip of the scythe cutting a trail in her lower back. She cried out in pain and spun around, meeting the crimson Cleaver head on.

She punched; her hand covered in spears of darkness and caught the Cardinal clear in the chest. It didn't stagger. Just seemed to pause momentarily to shake off the assault and then raised its hand to push at the air.

Her feet left the ground and Valkyrie flew away into the darkness. The air in her lungs escaped suddenly out from her mouth as her back landed heavily against the concrete. She sucked for air, winded, wounded. Desperately she tried to sit up but the Cardinal stood over her, its scythe pressed to her neck. Fletcher limped up to its side, his face pained.

"I'm really sorry, Val," he murmured and reached a scratched hand out towards her.

Fletcher felt his heart metaphorically stop as the Cardinal beside him begun to shake and shudder behind its reflective visor. It jittered and jerked, each twitch growing more violent than the last until it was forced to let go of its scythe. It clang hollow to the ground in front of Valkyrie who wearily picked herself up from the ground, clutching her split left shoulder that seemed to almost want to peel away from her central body.

With a single motion she thrusted her good fist forward, towards the Cardinal, through its protective cloak and into its chest. There came a crunch and she smashed past bones, and then the audible squelch of something popping gave her cause to smile grimly. Fletcher stumbled backwards as Valkyrie pulled back her arm, a red and throbbing heart in her grip.

The Cardinal seemed to have died standing, and blood gushed from the gaping hole in its chest like a fountain.

Valkyrie looked at the beating muscle and her face saddened. "Not again," she sighed and let it fall from her hands.

Fletcher could feel his body shiver as she stepped on it and drove her heel into the ground and twisted. The heart spurted, and then stopped. He flinched, a flinch that raked his whole body as Valkyrie raised her eyes up at him.

By the sickly glow of the gas station light, Fletcher could just make out the chocolate colour of her irises, swimming behind her wild eyes.

Valkyrie reached a hand out at him and he backed away.

"Val, I'm…you need help. You _desperately_ need help!" He stammered, backing up further. Horror filled him as she followed him step for step.

"You can't help me," she said, laughing a little at the mere mention of it. "There's no cure for what I am."

"Yes there is!" Underneath his shoe Fletcher felt his sole snag on a raised ledge of cement and he tripped, stumbling backward onto his behind.

Valkyrie loomed over him, unimpressed. "God, you're so weak," she pressed her boot against his chest and pushed down. "Why don't you just die, Fletcher Renn?"

Fletcher screamed as his ribs popped. Blood somehow found its way into his mouth and he realised with horror that he had bitten his own tongue – was still biting it, trying to mask the pain of his chest cavity collapsing with another pain.

* * *

**:D Story stats. So far the story is 44,000 words long! I've written out all the main body chapters and just linking them up, adding stuff and things. The conversation at the beginning of this chapter was the first thing I ever wrote for this story xD And it only took 33,000 words to get there hahahahaha -_-...sigh...**

**D: WILL FLETCHER DIE!?**

**Oh Val :'C why you get so evil...?**

**Reviews if you have a moment! :D ah~!**


	14. THIRTEEN: Change of Tactic

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A Change of Tactic**

The life force that glowed a brilliant blue around Fletcher dulled and spluttered like an overheated car on the highway, going out like a candle in the wind. Valkyrie watched it with interest; the harder she pressed her boot against his chest the faster the light faded. His blue eyes were starring unseeingly up at her, his fingers clutched desperately at her feet, his mouth – she speculated, was crying out for silent mercy.

Valkyrie felt a small part in her sigh tiredly.

He was so, so weak that there was no fun in destroying him. His suffering was the only thing that amused her. But she was too strong to kill him, too powerful to end his life.

She frowned.

A howl of pain echoed throughout the night and Valkyrie paused Fletcher's agony to listen.

It came again.

She lifted her boot and she could hear Fletcher Renn gasp and choke on the ground, trying to fill his bleeding lungs with air. She looked down at him for a moment and was tossing the thought of ending his misery around when the scream came again, raw and painful. Desperate.

The air shook with a soft _whump_ and the young teleporter had escaped.

Valkyrie didn't care. As her senses returned the adrenaline she had consumed in her fight began to take its toll. Her legs shook underneath her weight; she took two steps forward, vomited her pies, and then ran towards the scream.

The darkness seemed to part for her, and she followed it like a tunnel towards the sound. She came to a clearing where two crimson clad Cleavers stood, and a skeleton in a tattered suit knelt.

A Cardinal stood behind Skulduggery, the tip of its blade embedded into his back, so deep that the end came out of his chest. The other stood in front of him, still and contemplative.

Valkyrie crashed gracelessly through a bush, tripped, almost fell, but caught her balance just in time. "Leave him alone!"

Her voice came out weak and shrill, and she hated herself for it.

"I mean it!"

The Cardinals seemed to observe her carefully under the black of their helmets, the gleam of their visors cocked to one side ever so slightly. Even though she could see them perfectly in the dark, Valkyrie wondered if they could see _her_ just as well.

The Cardinal at Skulduggery's front lunged forward, driving the tip of it scythe through her chest, through her lungs, pierced her heart and with a crunch the end erupted through the skin of her back. Valkyrie would have screamed if the energy to do so existed. She slumped forward onto the blade and went still.

_You're doing a tremendous job by yourself! _Darquesse said, a smile in her voice.

_I didn't want this_, Valkyrie moaned.

_You did. We did. I did._

_I didn't. _

_I did_.

Valkryie felt the scythe slide from her and she caught herself from falling forward by taking a step. She willed the wounds to heal.

_I'm bloody invincible. _

The Cardinal made to swing it's weapon but to Valkyrie it seemed that time had slowed and the crimson Cleaver moved like the air had turned to oil. Around it it's life force throbbed a ghostly white and with a raised hand Valkyrie stripped it away. The soldier crumpled, carried by the momentum of its failed attack to the ground and was still.

"Last chance," said Valkyrie, turning onto the last Cardinal, its scythe pinning Skulduggery up on his knees. "Let him _go_, or _die_."

Without hesitation it released the detective, sheathed its scythe, and turned on its heel. With impossible agility it disappeared into the tree tops over head.

Valkyrie watched it go and then darted forward as Skulduggery collapsed to the ground. She caught him around the shoulders and sat him upright against her.

"You're late," he murmured.

"You're welcome," Valkyrie muttered weakly. Her muscles began to shake and she doubted she could muster the energy to urge the detective to stand. "I don't think I can get us up," she said.

Skulduggery tutted and she felt his arm slide under her and his weight press against her side; he pushed at her as he got to his feet and then pulled her after him. They walked back to the Bentley in the dark, listening out for the return of the lone Cardinal over the sound of their feet crunching unevenly across the grass.

"Skulduggery?" Valkyrie's voice was soft and she heard his neck clack around to look at her. "I'm really, _really_ sorry."

"Well, you _were_ late," he said, and shrugged. "Could've got to me sooner, Valkyrie, save me a whole lot of screaming – brilliant, manly screaming, mind you. But I suppose there's just something humbling about having your insides pierced and you throw your head back to have a good howl about it. Really brings one back down to earth. It prioritises things." Skulduggery suddenly began to chuckle. "I think, Valkyrie," he said, a grin in his voice, "that you and I are the _only_ people who can get ran through by a Cleaver's scythe and walk away from it. Isn't that funny? I definitely think it's something worth laughing about."

Valkyrie sighed. "You're talking a great deal."

She felt his arm lift around her and they quickly rose into the air.

"How unlike me," Skulduggery said, shaking his head at himself. "Being all chatty and-" they landed in the circle of light cast by the gas station and he glanced around for the Bentley.

Valkyrie heard him make a sound that she had only suspected herself of hearing a few times during her partnership with the skeleton. It was the sound of a startled squeak that he made by inhaling sharply inwards. Where the Bentley had been was a mass of swirling shadows.

"Oh, damn," Valkyrie raised her arms as Skulduggery ran across the lot, and called the darkness away. It flowed back and the Bentley emerging gleaming and unscathed from beneath.

She watched as Skulduggery walked around it, tsk-ing, sighing, grumbling about car-abusing partners.

"Its _fine_," Valkyrie reassured him.

"Hmm. It would appear so," he looked up at her from over the top of the car. "Nice work."

She tried to smile but only managed a grimace. Inside she felt faint, but strong. Tired, but wide awake. Weak, yet strangely powerful. She lost her balance beneath her and swayed dangerously. Valkyrie watched in surprise as Skulduggery vaulted across the bonnet of the Bentley like heroes did in moves and scooped her up in his arms.

Once upon a time Valkyrie had tried to do that and it had made Skulduggery so mad at her, he refused to talk to her for two days.

But it was clearly all right for him to do it.

Valkyrie rubbed her forehead wearily and looked up at Skulduggery's skull as lights started to shine and flicker around him in her vision. She reached out a hand towards it; her fingers covered in a soft, deep purple velvet glow, and stroked the colours. She heard the detective gasp sharply and his grip around her tightened as her colour bled into his.

"How," he started tensely, "_how _are you doing that?"

Valkyrie felt a surge of pain flow throughout her body and she closed her eyes tightly against it as she answered. "I don't know," she pulled her hand back to her side.

"Then what is it you're doing?"

"Touching your…your aura, your magic stuff, I think. It feels like that. All warm and soft and tingly."

"What does it look like?"

"Kind of like, like a Christmas tree."

"Like a particularly dashing Christmas tree?"

"No, like a rubbish one."

"Oh."

"But it's still, you know, okay looking."

"And what about you? Are you a rubbish looking show of lights too?"

"No. Mine's a blacky plurple-ish colour. Sleek. Very classy."

"Well, now I just feel self-conscious."

She smiled up at him.

"Would you like me to lift you into the car?" Skulduggery asked, cocking his head to one side.

"If it's no trouble," Valkyrie replied sheepishly as she felt him bundle her up against the remains of his suit.

"Nope," the detective grunted and reached the handle of the Bentley from under her and wrenched it open, "no trouble at all." He placed her down into the leather seats and passed her the seatbelt.

Valkyrie took it from him and stopped. "What about the red Cleaver? The Cardinal? I…" she looked away at the floor of the car under her feet. The mat there was starting to wear after all the years of her scuffing her shoes against it. "I killed it."

"It's most likely long gone now, Valkyrie," Skulduggery said as he leaned over her, his arms folded over his head against the roof of the Bentley. "They're notoriously hard to kill, Cardinals."

"But I _ripped_ its heart _out_."

He scoffed. "Flesh wound."

Valkyrie sighed and rested her head back into the seat. "Can we just drive?"

"But of course." Skulduggery closed the door gently and made his way to the driver's side of the Bentley.

o(0+0)o

Fletcher reappeared laying flat on the sanctuary floor barely alive. He could see Ghastly's blurred outline in his vision and partially hear the Elder ordering something as the giant man picked him up bridal-style and began to run.

"What happened?" Ravel cried, gaining speed alongside them as they pelted down the corridors towards the medical ward. Fletcher pushed a lump of blood out of his mouth, too pained to care how it may have looked. "Valkyrie," he murmured huskily, "she's…not…right."

Ravel's eyebrows rose up into the line of his fringe. "She did this?"

Fletcher nodded and passed out. Ghastly tsk-ed and shouldered open the medical bay doors causing the pale creature, Doctor Nye to turn around sharply, its mouth contorted impatiently. Its yellowy eyes glanced down at the young man in Ghastly's arms and it hissed.

"Come, now," he waved them into the next room where it ripped back some sheets.

Ghastly set the teleporter down. "How is he looking?"

The doctor leaned over the body and pressed two long fingers up under Fletcher's jaw against the soft hole where his jugular rested. Still. It lowered his head over his mouth and listened for any breath, then shook its head.

"His heart, it has stopped."

Ghastly frowned and leaned towards the unnatural beast with a snarl. "Well, _fix _it."

Doctor Nye stared at him evenly and leaned against Fletcher's chest cavity with the narrow of his palm and pushed down sharply. It gave a loud squelch. "Crushed," it said finitely. "All crushed. There just would be no pieces to _fix_."

Ghastly pounded his fist so hard into the bed that it bucked violently and caused Ravel to flinch. "Then do _something_ you bloody _thing_!" he roared. "That's what I _pay_ you for!"

Ravel watched as Nye shied away and gave an undiscerned shrug. "I will see what can be done," it said, the pitch of its voice cynical. "Do not hope. This boy needs a miracle, and I, well _I_ am no magician."

The sound of Ghastly grinding his teeth reverberated around the ward. "If he dies consider your contract void here with the Sanctuary."

Nye laughed. A wide mouthed laugh. It grated the ears of the occupants and made Ravel grimace. "You would not risk the best doctor available this close to war, Elder Bespoke, we both know that."

It gasped as Ghastly lunged at it and pulled it over Fletcher's body. "Save him, or I will enjoy killing you." He threw the doctor backwards and turned with a sharp squeak on his heel. Ravel practically leaped to the opposite side of the room to get out of his way.

Ghastly walked several metres up the corridor before he stopped. His breath came in short and shallow bursts, his eyesight he noticed was swimming in a red haze. He pressed a hand to his forehead and focused on his breathing as Ravel came cautiously abreast.

"I'm sure he'll pull-"

"We did this," Ghastly said bitterly, "we let it get out of hand. Just waited and watched from our high thrones. And Valkyrie…" he shook his head and exhaled loudly. He turned his gaze to the high ceiling which faded into a rocky darkness above him. "Well, tough choices have to be made now."

Ravel nodded.

"I want all our Generals to meet within the hour. I want Madam Mist arrested and I want our Cleavers to round up the Roarhaven mages and have them confined." He rounded onto Ravel with dark eyes. "If we don't act now, we lose everything."

"I know. And what about Valquesse and Skulduggery?"

Ghastly frowned. "The Cardinals will pursue them until they come to their bloody senses."

o)0+0(o

The screams for mercy was music to his ears! Something about the way a mortal cried made his soul do back-flips in joy!

Sterrange chuckled as he passed several American Cleavers as they slowly sliced the skin off a middle-aged man with master chef precision. The shaves were so thin they shone a pale pink transparent colour and gleamed wetly. They avoided from going so deep as to draw blood – very skilled. Sterrange hoped that the emotionless entities felt some joy as they went about their torture. If he had the skills he would have most certainly been amongst them.

A sorceress came up to his side: Malicious Rid, a pretty thing, hair as dark at soot; it lacked any sheen but had that matt shine which refracted a shade of blue under the Irish moonlight. Rid had been a Sanctuary Official from the Americans, and when she spoke it was with a strong Florida accent that reminded Sterrange a lot of those corny American shows where rich women complained about other rich women for hours on end.

He _hated_ her voice. It annoyed him immensely. If she didn't have such perfect purple-coloured irises he would've made someone else his First General, based purely on how insanely annoying her vocals were. The tragic thing was that she had a power that was terribly unique. Rid could conjure up sigils in any vicinity, near or far, by thought alone. Shields could go up, alarms could be set and she had no need to draw any of them – it just happened.

Rid cleared her throat and inside Sterrange cringed. "The Elders are calling for their Generals."

Sterrange sighed in relief as the silence fell between them. "Ah, all right then. Thankyou."

She nodded and walked off towards the Cleavers finishing off their round of torture and Sterrange relaxed.

"Oh, one other thing," Malicious Rid added.

Sterrange frowned, annoyed, but she didn't seemed to be that phased by it. "Be quick!" He snapped.

Rid's pretty furrow darkened in thought and then she shrugged. "Sorry! Forgotten it." She smiled and walked off shaking her head at herself.

Sterrange pinched the bridge of his nose.

o)0+0(o

_The Five Generals _were on holidays in different parts of Europe when the call came in.

Hate Lance was skiing in Switzerland when his ring began to glow and vibrate something fierce, causing him to veer of course, crash into a particularly spiny pine tree and lose him the race. He dragged himself out of the snow, grumbling about being too old to answer Sanctuary calls as the ring teleported him to Ireland, snow and all.

At the same time in France, Amber Grimm was enjoying a therapeutic naked screaming session with some of her fellow alternative healers when her ring suddenly shook like a morning alarm. Horrified, she managed to run to her locker and pull out a towel when she disappeared to a round of applause of her fellow hippies.

In Wales, Cuthbert Grolt was enjoying another miserable day of particularly horrid autumn weather. The rain being the only time he could walk around outside without the need of excessive sun-lotion and skin softening products to keep his scales from drying and getting annoyingly itchy. He was playing a round of cricket with his six year old boy when his wife called for him from inside the house. Begrudgingly he went in and found her pointing to his Sanctuary ring at his bedside stand. He reached for it, curious, and promptly teleported.

Somewhere else, on the eastern side of Portugal, Heaven Ibrahim was about to cut her scythe into the body of a foul no-do-gooder when the ring on her left hand glowed. Immediately she threw the scythe into the back of the man as he ran away, cleaving him neatly in two. His sides fell away from each other as she pointed to one of her students, clad in grey with a training visor over his head and he nodded mutely as the ring took her away with a soft _whump_.

Silo Milo Al-Kachino was swinging from the bars of his cell when the guard appeared behind him and asked how he was doing, to which he replied he was good. The guard passed him his ring but Silo refused it. The guard insisted. But Silo politely denied. After five minutes of mild-mannered debate the guard grew exasperated and threw the ring at him. Out of habit Silo caught it, groaned out loud and dematerialised with a pop.

Each of them stood before Ghastly slightly disorientated. Hate Lance staggered the rest of the way out of the Swiss snow, grumbled something incoherent and vomited. To his right, Amber Grimm stood still as her feet was littered was specks of vomitty splash-back; and to her right stood Silo Milo Al-Kachino who appeared utterly depressed.

Cuthbert Grolt seemed a little dazzled but was managing to gather his bearings better than his comrades. The only one who the ring seemed to have no effect was Heaven Ibrahim whose face no one could see behind her black visor and whose body language were muted from within her crimson cloak.

Heaven reached up and took off her visor with a hollow click and revealed her face, marred with scars and patches of stitch work. One eye was black like a vampire's and the other was round and pale yellow; her teeth, when her not existent lips pulled back were rounded to blunt points. She glared her odd eyes at Ghastly who stared back evenly.

"Who," she hissed, "needs to be killed?"

* * *

**Whew - long while since I late posted a chapter. Sorry about that people! Easter and all. ****Ignore my shifty eyes, haha. **

**So yeah...WILL FLETCHER DIE!? What do you people want, y'all? :D Huh!? HUH!?**

**And my god, The 5Gs, are finally IN THE HOUSE!**

**To be revealed soon in this story...will Fletch die!? Who and what are the GENERALS!? What is a CARDINAL, how do they differ!? Will Skul and Val ever make it to Cork safe!? AND WHAT IS THE DAGGER OF OBLIVION!?**

**Day-yum, Chapter 14: THE FIVE GENERALS, coming soon ;D**

**If ya review it'll be sooner :3**

**YEA!**


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